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Tell-Me-Why Stories About Animals 


























































































































































































































































































































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Ad, watching, saw that Duggee was getting a little closer to 
Great- Warm-Fear 



Tell-Me-Why Stories 
About Animals 


By 

C. H. CLAUDY 

II 

Author of “Tell-Me-Why Stories About Mother Nature,” 
“The First Book of Photography,” etc. 


ILLUSTRATIONS BY 

THOMAS WRENN 


NEW YORK 

McBRIDE, NAST & COMPANY 

1914 


Copyright, 1914, by 
McBride, Nast & Co. 



Published Sep‘t$m£>er, 1914 


SEP 30 1914 

$ />yT 
©Cl. A 3806 18 
♦Ce/ 


To Him Who Is “Daddy” 

To Both Old Pops and Carlie-boy 
This Book Is 
Lovingly Inscribed 






















































































































































































































PREFACE 


Students of Natural History have no business with this 
book ! 

If they read it, and find it less complete than the many 
adequate and learned volumes which were consulted in its 
writing, they are respectfully informed that the Carlie-boys 
and Anne-girlies of the world don’t want to know the number 
of teeth in the upper jaw of the most remote ancestor of the 
jack rabbit, nor the shape of the backbone of the lineal 
descendants of the urus. What the Human Question Marks 
desire to be told is the Why of the What, the Where of the 
How, and the When of the Who. 

Therefore no apologies are here made that these Stories of 
Animals are not complete life histories. If the fanciful tales 
interest for a half hour, in spite of their foundation of sober 
truth, and leave one single dent in some small mind, in which, 
in later years, some abstruse and dry-as-dust fact of natural 
history can find a ready resting place, they will have accom- 
plished all -their purpose. 

And if they furnish to some question-weary Mamma, some 
story-tired Old Pops, a way by which they can get a precious 
half hour of their own, unplastered by their own particular 
variety of Carlie-boy or Anne-girlie, then they will have risen 
beyond and above their purpose, and will need no further ex- 
planation or introduction from 

The Real Old Pops. 

Washington, D. C., 

July 28, 1914. 


CONTENTS 


PAGE 


The Story of Duggee, the Wolf, and Bones-Thrown-in-the- 
Firelight, and the Slit-Slant-Eyes-that-Became-Round . i 

The Story of the Builder with the Floppy- Woppy Tail, of 
the Special Law for Water in the Time of Cold, and of 
the Winter Dinners that Stuck Big Ends Between the 
Rocks 1 8 


The Story of Swift-Swift, and of Nudin and His Terrible 

Ride, and of the Leadership of the Tribe of Uzzi . . 40 

The Story of the Saurus Things and How Life Came in the 
World, and of the Book Which Mother Nature Wrote, 
with the Help of the Things That Are 58 

The Story of the Sleepy Animals and of the Great Secret 
Whispered in Bear’s Ear and How Mother Nature 
Found a Way Around the Law 78 

The Story of the Painted Horse, of Lemming, Stoat and 
Company, and Their Change of Clothes, and of the 
Strange, Strange Gift Mother Nature Gave to Certain 
Bug-Eaters 105 

The Story of the Foster Baby King Cat with the Varnished 

Tail Who Knew the Dog Taught Grip 130 

The Story of the Bad-Tempered Rosserus, of the Indignant 
Bug-Eaters Who Wouldn’t Help, of the Enemy Who 
Stabbed Through the Joints in His Armor, and of His 
Single Friend Among the Birds 144 

The Story of Big Striped Terror and the Heavy Stone, of 
Wau and the Fence of Boughs, of Little Striped Terror 
and His Lesson, and of the Capturing of Shah . . .167 

The Story of the Conqueror of the Conqueror of the King 
of the Jungle, of the Laws of Prey and Fear, and of 
Field Mouse and the Dark and Damp and Windy Hole . 188 


THE ILLUSTRATIONS 


Ad, watching, saw that Duggee was getting a little closer 

to Great- Warm-Fear Frontispiece 

FACING 

PAGE 

“Do you see what that scamp of a Beaver is doing?” asked 

Wolf of Bear 28 

Nudin . . . landed all asprawl, upon the back of the startled 

animal 50 

— those animals which learned men have called by funny 

long names 68 

— white stuff all over everything — coming down in little, lazy 

white bits — 94 

“ — you see?” he said, “that buzzy-bug saw me first” . .118 

The Little Birds . . . flew to him and lit upon his back . 164 

— twice as quiet and three times as snaky and seven and 

two-thirds times as twisty-wisty as before . . . .178 
























































































































































































































































































































































Tell-Me-Why Stories About Animals 






TELL-ME-WHY STORIES 
ABOUT ANIMALS 


The Story of Duggee, the Wolf, and Bones-Thrown-in-the- 
Firelight, and the Slit-Slant-Eyes-that-Became-Round 

C ARLIE-BOY went up stairs clump-clomp-clump, mak- 
ing a terrific noise in his big tramping shoes. He sat 
in the middle of the floor of his room and took them off, 
putting them down hard — thump, thump! Then he hunted 
one slipper out from under the bed and found another on the 
dressing table and picked his dressing gown off the radiator. 
His sweater he took off and thoughtfully dropped behind a 
chair where he could be sure of finding it again, always pro- 
viding no Mamma nor Old Pops nor other absurdly orderly 
person picked it up and hung it in a closet where no little boy 
would ever think of looking for his clothes. 

Carlie-boy came down stairs, pat-pit-pat, very softly. Yes, 
there was Old Pops sitting in front of the fire place. So he 
executed a combined frontal and flank attack, and having 
plastered himself successfully up and down all of that sub- 
missive person that he could reach, he spoke. 

“Pops !” he said, emphatically. “ I think Togo is a very 
funny dog. When we built a fire out in the woods, Togo 
turned ’round and ’round and ’round, trying to find his tail. 
Only he hasn’t any tail. Then he lay down. Then he got up 


2 TELL-ME-WHY STORIES ABOUT ANIMALS 


and turned ’round some more and lay down again and went to 
sleep. And every time I teased Togo and he jumped up, he 
turned ’round at least three times before he lay down again. 
I think he ought to get mad, but he never does. When we 
got up to go, Uncle Charlie didn’t have to call Togo — he got 
up right away and barked and ran on. Now, what I want 
to know is — ” 

“Of course you want to know. Why don’t you tell me a 
story instead of me telling you one?” 

“Pops ! How can I tell you a story when I don’t know it ? 
But you know it all.” 

“Oh!” answered Old Pops, abashed. “Do I? I forgot. 
Well, what is it you want to know ?” 

“ — is why Togo chases his place where his tail isn’t, and 
how he knew when Uncle Charlie was ready to go, and why 
he won’t do what I tell him, and will do what Uncle Charlie 
tells him, and why he doesn’t get angry when I tease him, and 
where dogs come from, and what Uncle Charlie meant when he 
talked about the serious dog star, and — ” 

“Help, help!” cried Old Pops. “That’s about five stories 
already. And one story after a long tramp is one story too 
many !” 

“No, it isn’t! How am I going to learn about things if you 
don’t tell me ?” 

“Caught !” cried Old Pops, but Carlie-boy didn’t know what 
he meant. “I see I shall have to tell you the tale of Bones- 
Thrown-in-the-Firelight, and of the Slit-Slant-Eyes-that-Be- 
came-Round, and why — but let us begin !” 

So Old Pops began. 

“To tell you why a dog chases the place where his tail isn’t 
before he lies down, and how he knows when his master is 
ready to go, and where dogs came from, and all the rest of your 


THE STORY OF DUGGEE 


3 


forty horse power questions, we shall have to make believe we 
can see a long, long ways off. We shall have to see away 
back a million years and more, to the time when men were 
very savage and rough. In those early days they didn’t have 
houses — they lived in caves or even in trees. They didn’t 
wear clothes, but wound a strip of skin of some dead animal 
about their waists and their hair grew long like an overcoat. 
They had no tools, no books, no playthings. Even their 
weapons were such as they found ready made — a club from a 
tree, a stone of handy shap^e to use as a club or with which to 
throw. 

“One priceless thing they had — fire. For Brother Lightning 
came down then, very much as he does now, and set trees on 
fire, as I have told you in another story . 1 

“With fire, the men of that far off age were masters of the 
wild creatures about them. The terrible Cave Bear, twice as 
big and twice as strong as any bear you ever heard of, the 
Saber Toothed Tiger, big as three ordinary tigers, and as fierce 
as six of them, and exactly and precisely as bad tempered as 
any nine tigers you ever saw, and with a mouth plenty big 
enough to bite a man’s head off and eat it at one gulp, the 
great Python, hugest of snakes, that just wound ’round and 
’round anything he fancied to eat and curled and twirled and 
swirled and whirled and crunched and munched and scrunched 
and bunched itself until the poor animal or man was just a nice, 
soft, eatable dish for breakfast, the lions and the wild cats and 
the wolves and the elephants and the peculiar and wonderful 
and altogether impossible other animals that don’t live any 
more, the Mammoth, a sort of overgrown elephant, and the 
giant Sloth, bigger than a bear and able to eat tree tops at a 

1 The Story of the Great Quarrel between Friend Heat and Water and 
of Steam-That-Must-Get-Out, Tell-Me-Why Stories About Mother Nature. 


4 TELL-ME-WHY STORIES ABOUT ANIMALS 


gulp, and the Sivatherium, a sort of overgrown elk or deer 
with enormous horns and a playful disposition which drove it 
to butt at the other animals and break them in two, and the 
Urus, a sort of giant buffalo — all these terrible animals were 
afraid of fire! 

“With Mother Nature’s great gift to her favorite children, 
the men of that far off day were masters of the beasts. For 
not even the great Saber Toothed Tiger would face fire. No 
beast faces fire in fair fight. Our modern animals, our dogs 
and our cats and our horses, will stand and look at fire, un- 
afraid, but they will not go too near it, even now. Horses 
will go crazy with fear in a burning stable, so crazy they run 
back into it and have to be led out blindfold. Togo will turn 
around and chase the place where his tail isn’t, in front of the 
fire we make in the woods, but let a spark jump out at him 
and see Togo put what’s left of his tail between his legs and 
skedaddle ! 

“Man, in these old days, was afraid of almost all the ani- 
mals, and almost all the animals were afraid of fire. So at 
night, if a tribe of these men and women were away from 
their caves, they would make a fire out of the warm embers 
they always carried with them in baked clay pieces, to protect 
them from the wild animals. And very strange they must 
have looked in their skin clothes, the men’s faces covered with 
great beards, their huge thick muscles rippling under their sun- 
tanned skin, and their little children playing naked about the 
great camp fires. Here they could be safe and lie and sleep 
in the warmth and brightness, unafraid. 

“You can imagine that the position of fire tender was one 
of great honor — and great responsibility. For if the fire 
tender let the fire go out — well, if the beasts didn’t eat him, 
at least his fellows would kill him for being faithless to his 


THE STORY OF DUGGEE 


5 


trust. So you can see they would choose the best man of all 
to tend the fire. Not even the leader of the band — he whom 
we would call captain or president — was greater than the fire 
tender, for on him depended the lives of all. 

“Such a man was Ad. You wouldn't think Ad was pretty, 
but his tribe thought he was beautiful. 

" 'See what great long strong arms he has !' they would say, 
admiring him. ‘Look at his long, tangled, dirty hair that 
keeps him so warm. Observe his great teeth and his keen eyes 
and the beautiful lumpy body of him, all bunchy with strong 
muscle.' 

“Ad was very strong and very quick and very sure in all 
he did. He was the fastest runner in the tribe. And that 
means something, for these men could run as no modern men 
could run — some of them could catch the antelope in a short 
race, and all of them could outrun the wolves. 

“How do I know? Why, those that couldn’t outrun the 
wolves got caught, and that was the end of them! For the 
wolves, hunting in bands of half starved, hungry hordes, would 
always run down and catch anything which couldn't bite back, 
unless it could run faster than they could. You can be very 
sure they didn’t chase Saber Tooth or old Big Cave Bruin, 
however ! 

“ Well, Ad, who was so strong and so swift, was fire tender 
to the little tribe of hairy men. He watched while his mates 
slept, and threw on the branches of Brother Tree when Great- 
Warm-Fear — such was their name for fire — was hungry. 

“All that was best in the tribe was laid at Ad's feet. The 
tenderest part of the afternoon's kill was his to eat. Water 
was drawn from the river and set before him in hollow stones. 
A pile of skins was his alone to lie upon when his work was 
done. Little children passed him on tiptoe when he slept, 


6 TELL-ME-WHY STORIES ABOUT ANIMALS 


their noise hushed, for was he not Ad, the feeder of Great- 
Warm-Fear? 

“ ‘Great is Ad !’ they would say. ‘Hush, lest we wake him, 
and then the fathers will be angry and beat us with many 
sticks/ and go creep, creeping by. If a careless foot slipped 
on a stone, the other children upbraided the offender. ‘Care- 
less one!’ they would say. ‘Do you want to wake the sleep- 
ing man and get us all many bruises ?’ 

“Yet Ad never woke to a stone tinkle made by childish feet! 
But just let a beast turn a stone over, near the circle of fire- 
light or within jumping distance, and Ad would be on his feet 
in a moment, every muscle tense, ready to run or fight as the 
case might be. 

“One of the reasons why Ad was so much quicker and 
stronger and better than the other men of his tribe was because 
he could think. Of course, he didn’t think very much. He 
couldn’t think how many two and two might be, because he 
hadn’t any names for two or four. If he wanted to show his 
friends how many days he had been on a journey, he took a 
handful of stones and showed them, while he pointed to the 
sun — many stones for many days and few stones for few days. 
But he would be just as apt to show five stones for two days 
or two stones for five days — neither stones nor days mattered 
very much! 

“And many of his thinks would be funny even to a little 
child of to-day. He thought the sun was a great god. He 
thought the moon was another one. He believed that when it 
lightninged, the moon was angry, and that when it thundered, 
the sun was fighting ! But then, no one had taught him differ- 
ently. His father never told him stories while he plastered up 
and down his Old Pops’ Middlemost Middle, feeling like a ton 
of lead 1” 


THE STORY OF DUGGEE 


7 

“Never mind that part,” observed Carlie-boy, with a wrig- 
gle and two wroggles. “Go on with the story.” 

So Old Pops, grunting, went on. 

“In spite of his curious beliefs, Ad did think a lot, compared 
to the other men. And he used his eyes. It has always been 
the man who used his eyes who succeeded. The man who can 
see, the man who can think — he is the man who does things. 
And it doesn’t make a bit of difference whether the man is 
Edison, who gave us electric lights, or Wright, who invented 
the flying machine, or Bell, who made the telephone, or poor, 
ignorant Ad, sitting by a fire a million years ago — all of them 
succeeded because they used their eyes and thought. 

“Ad noticed the different beasts outside the circle of fire- 
light. There was Wra-a-a-uff, the saber-tooth tiger, who 
lay all night in the thicket and growled and grumbled under 
his breath, because he didn’t dare the terror of Great-Warm- 
Fear. There was Urg-Urg, the big cave bear, who shambled 
by sometimes but never stopped when Great-Warm-Fear was 
awake. There was Wippit, the little deer, who was always 
crawling close to see what she could see, quiet as a mouse, 
and then scampering away at a spurt of flame, making noise 
enough to wake the whole forest, and only her fleet legs saving 
her from Mreauw-ou, the big leopard, who crouched overhead 
on a tree branch just waiting for Wippit, night after night. 

“Then there was Duggee, the wolf. He was one of many, 
and whenever Ad saw a whole circle of yellow, slit-slant eyes, 
beyond the firelight, he knew Duggee and his band of thin and 
shaggy wolves were waiting, waiting, waiting — waiting for 
Great-Warm-Fear to go to sleep, that they might run in and 
grab a sleeping man or child and carry him off for a feast upon 
the rocks. 


8 TELL-ME-WHY STORIES ABOUT ANIMALS 


“Only Ad never let Great- Warm-Fear go to sleep until the 
Sun God had waked up ! 

“But Ad, watching, saw that Duggee, who led the wolves, 
was getting a little closer — a little, little closer to the light of 
Great- Warm-Fear, every night. Ad wondered about this. So 
he thought a long time and by and by he found out why. It 
was to get the bones left from supper that Ad and his friends 
threw away. So, hoping to get Duggee close enough to kill 
him, Ad kept throwing him bones from out the circle of the 
light of Great- Warm-Fear. 

“ ‘Come, Duggee — come, Duggee/ Ad would cry, casting 
out a bone with a little meat on it. ‘Nice Duggee — very good 
Duggee — nice meat, nice bone — Oh, burn Duggee ! No good !’ 

“For Duggee would grab the bone and scamper back again 
out of reach and then there would be a free-for-all fight among 
all the wolves to settle the question of whether Duggee ate 
his own bone or the rest of the pack ate the bone and Duggee 
too! 

“Now, it is very likely that Ad would have killed Duggee in 
the course of time, for Ad was cunning, and always the bones 
he threw out for Duggee were a little, little closer to Great- 
Warm-Fear. Some day, Ad was sure, Duggee would come 
close enough to be hit with a throwing stone — and then there 
would be one wolf less to bother, and one skin more out of 
which to make clothes. 

“But before that happened, Ad went out hunting alone in 
the woods. Now this was a thing the old time men seldom did 
— it was too dangerous. Wra-a-a-uff had an uncomfortable 
habit of being where you didn’t expect him, and Urg-Urg, who 
was the quietest thing you ever saw for his size, and exactly 
the color of the gray rocks, was most ’straordinarily likely to 
come out and grab you when you didn’t expect it, and there 


THE STORY OF DUGGEE 


9 


were lions and wild cats, mastodons and antediluvian animals 
generally, all waiting to catch and eat a nice, ugly, dirty, hairy 
man, not to mention Duggee himself and all his pack. And 
while Ad could have licked Duggee without trouble, he couldn't 
lick forty Duggees, all biting and fighting and clawing and paw- 
ing at once! 

“However, this day Ad was hungry. He hadn’t liked the 
meal that morning, and he was somewhat tired feeding Great- 
Warm-Fear anyway, and probably he wanted a little excite- 
ment, like running for his life or fighting a wild cat or two, 
once in a while. So Ad went hunting and had the bad luck 
to fall over a twisted branch and sprain his ankle. 

“He might just as well have broken his neck, and he knew 
it. He was too far away to crawl back to the evening fire, 
and to be caught out alone in the woods at night was just like 
walking out and calling to Wra-a-a-uff, ‘Please come and eat 
me — I’m tired of living!’ So Ad made up his mind that he’d 
better get ready to fight his last fight. But just then he spied 
a hole in the ground under a tree. He knew what it was — it 
was one of the places Duggee and his tribe lived in when they 
wanted to go to sleep. 

“Ad decided he would be Duggee for a while. He crawled 
into the hole, and stopped it up with several dead tree branches. 
It was stuffy in there, and smelled like Duggee — and there 
were bones lying on the floor, and, oh joy, a nice big piece of 
fresh meat, part of a kill that Duggee or one of his tribe had 
left for supper. 

“ ‘Now here is a nice home!’ said Ad to himself. ‘I have 
thrown Duggee many bones, and I shall now eat his and stay 
here safely until my ankle is well again !’ 

“Of course, the wolf who owned that hole came back and 
made a great howl about one of the two-legged animals steal- 


IO TELL-ME-WHY STORIES ABOUT ANIMALS 


ing his home and his supper, and all the rest of the wolf-tribe 
came and sat down on their tails and howled about what they 
were going to do to Ad when he came out. They told him at 
length, and with great attention to small details, just how they 
were going to kill him and just which one of them was going 
to eat each part of him. 

“But Ad didn’t care. He knew Duggee and his friends 
didn’t have hands like the tree-apes and so they couldn’t pull 
the dead branches away. Ad went peacefully to sleep and let 
them howl! 

“Now, those men of long ago were tough — much tougher 
than we are! If we get a sprained ankle, it takes months to 
get well, but those old time men would heal up — oh, in a day 
or two. By the time the meat was all gone. Ad could limp 
on his sore leg. He was dreadfully thirsty, but he knew how 
to suck a stone to cure the thirst, and he waited patiently for 
the bright noon day so that Duggee and his band would go 
away. 

“When they did. Ad slipped out and limped back towards 
the camping place he called home, as fast as he could. And 
what a marvelous tale he had to tell, to be sure! All his 
friends had thought he was safe inside of Wra-a-a-uff, by this 
time, and they were inclined to think him a spirit or a ghost, 
but by the time he had buffeted Wog, the new feeder of Great- 
Warm-Fear, over the head, and told him to go back to rubbing 
skins, and sent half a dozen children running to the river for 
water, and seized on the best piece of meat in the cooking hol- 
low for his supper and cuffed a lazy old lady off his pile of 
furs, they really began to believe it uus Ad after all. And 
they thought he was a wonder, a marvel, to live out three 
nights in the woods. 

“ Tt is magic !’ Ad assured them solemnly — and this was 


THE STORY OF DUGGEE 


ii 


clever of him — ‘and the magic is this — that Duggee and his 
friends helped me. And it shall be a peace between Duggee 
and me. Never again shall we try to kill Duggee, except he 
tries to kill us, for Duggee helped me in the magic, and 
Wra-a-a-uff and Urg-Urg could not eat me up.’ 

“As Wra-a-a-uff and Urg-Urg hadn’t tried to eat Ad, this 
might be called a sort of stretching the truth to make a good 
story, but Ad didn’t know any better. He had never been to 
Sunday school. Why? Well, not only were there no schools, 
but there were not even any Sundays, a million years ago. 

“All the tribe agreed. 

“ ‘It is a great magic,’ they said, solemnly. ‘And Duggee 
is a friend, and not an enemy. No more will we kill him and 
his friends. Then, when we are out in the woods at night, 
Duggee will keep us from being eaten by Wra-a-a-uff and 
Urg-Urg. Great is Duggee, and great, oh very great indeed, 
is Ad, feeder of Great-Warm-Fear. Bring some more of 
Brother Tree, you, that he may make a great brightness.’ 

“Well, after that, the bones that were cast out beyond Great- 
Warm-Fear to Duggee were full of meat, and there were no 
stones thrown. Duggee got bolder and bolder, and came 
closer and closer to the dreaded Flower which grew from tree 
branches and which represented fear to him and his. Per- 
haps his fierce old heart was hungry for companionship, per- 
haps, as wise men say, he was only less savage with the men 
than with the animals because he was fed by them. But how- 
ever that may be, before very long Duggee had his regular 
place in the circle, and went to sleep with his nose to his bushy 
tail, and growled when Wra-a-a-uff passed by, and fed from 
the hands of children, and snapped at them when they trod on 
his tail and was soundly beaten for it, and generally was 
adopted into the tribe. 


12 


TELL-ME-WHY STORIES ABOUT ANIMALS 


“Now, this is a great mystery which no one except wonder- 
ful old Mother Nature knows anything about. Duggee, wolf, 
fierce and terrible, always hungry, swift as a deer, and know- 
ing no law but that of kill or be killed, became tame. He 
found the two legged man animal kind to him. He was fed. 
He was warmed. He was allowed to sleep by Great- Warm- 
Fear and so was protected from other animals. And perhaps 
it was because of this, and perhaps because of something 
Mother Nature had put in his heart in the beginning, when she 
made him, but much of his fierceness died out of him, and in 
its place there arose love. Love without thought of anything 
or any one but Ad, love that no blows, and no ill treatment 
could break, love that bade him be a servant and hunt and 
watch and warn his master of danger. 

“But although Duggee gave all his heart and trust to Ad, 
it was a long time before Ad could entirely trust Duggee. 

“ ‘Duggee helped me with his home and his kill, and so I 
live/ he said to himself. ‘But Duggee is — Duggee! And 
Duggee and his tribe kill men/ 

“But at last he learned to trust Duggee. Duggee led him to 
good game. Nose to the ground, his wonderful sense of 
smell aided Ad to get plenty of food. Duggee stood guard at 
night and let Ad sleep, and at every sound from the woods 
about which might be Wra-a-a-uff or Urg-Urg or other danger, 
Duggee would raise his voice and howl, a long, rolling, ter- 
rible yowl, and Ad would waken and give fresh wood to 
Great- Warm-Fear. Duggee warned Ad of danger, Duggee 
helped Ad to kill deer for food, Duggee became a necessity, 
and with familiarity came trust. 

“Other wolves took Duggee’s place beyond Great- Warm- 
Fear. Other members of the tribe cast bones to them. 

“ ‘For why should Ad have a friend of Duggee, who tracks 


THE STORY OF DUGGEE 


i3 


his game and helps him fight and warns him of danger ?’ they 
said, these ancient men. ‘Let us, too, feed the magic wolves 
we must not kill, that they will come and help us, also/ 

“So, presently, there were half a dozen wolves sleeping 
about the fire, well fed, kindly treated as long as they did 
not bite, and of vast help to the tribe in hunting. Wippit 
grew more and more timid, for Duggee and the tame wolves 
would kill when a throwing stone was harmless. The great 
cats, lynx, leopard, wild cat, panther, grew more cautious. A 
ring of men about a tree could always be tired out by waiting, 
but a ring of men and a ring of wolves — they were not good 
for even a great cat to face in fair fight. 

“Thus the first wolf became tame. But, though he forgot 
his fierceness and learned the law of love, he never has for- 
gotten some of his habits. Duggee, going to sleep in the tall 
grass, turned around and around and around to make a nest 
of it for himself. Duggee, wanting to lie down in the dead 
leaves and keep warm while he watched, turned around and 
around to make a ring in which to lie — a ring and bank of 
leaves big enough to keep out the cold wind. And to this day, 
Duggee — doggie, or dog, as we call him, turns around and 
around and around before he lies down, in humble imitation of 
his far, far off great-great-great-great-great-grandfather Dug- 
gee, who turned around and around and around to make a bed 
for himself in the grass or the leaves. 

“The tribe of Ad grew and prospered. Ad married and 
had many sons, and they grew up and married and they had 
sons. And the sons wandered into strange lands, taking their 
fire, their cooking stones and their tame wolves with them. 
There were different kinds of wolves in the different far 
countries, but they tamed them, too, by feeding, and by never 
forgetting that Duggee was a magic and had once saved their 


i 4 TELL-ME-WHY STORIES ABOUT ANIMALS 

grandfather’s life and therefore was taboo — which means not 
to be touched. There were long haired wolves in cold coun- 
tries and short haired wolves in warm countries — there were 
big, strong, long legged wolves in rough countries and smaller 
shorter legged wolves on the plains. And so we have various 
kinds of dogs, children and grandchildren and great-great- 
great, a thousand times a thousand times great grandchildren 
of the Duggee which Ad tamed and the Duggees of the other 
countries into which wandered the sons of Ad. 

“Of course, all this didn’t happen at once. There were 
many, many of the wild, hairy men, and many, many of the 
fierce wolves which were tamed. As the men wandered into 
far countries and planted grain, and learned to make houses 
for themselves and became more and more able to think, so 
did the sons and grandsons and the great-great-grandsons of 
Duggee learn more and more how to be good servants, and 
how to love more and more the men who were kind to them. 
And here comes a great and wonderful mystery, which no 
one, except perhaps our Mother Nature, can really explain. 

“Duggee, and all the wolf tribe, had slit-slant eyes, sloping 
towards the corner. Men have round eyes, straight across 
their faces. Not a dog of to-day but has round eyes! No, I 
can’t tell you why, but a man who spent his life thinking beau- 
tiful thoughts once said that he believed that the eyes of a dog 
had grown like the eyes of his master because they looked at 
him so often and so lovingly. Ad grew to be very fond of 
his tame companion before he died, and Ad’s children and their 
children after them have always loved the dogs that they had 
for companions. So perhaps that is the reason a dog’s eyes 
are round like human eyes, because he loves us so and be- 
cause we love him so, and no longer slit-slanty as they were 
when the dog was Duggee, the wolf.” 


THE STORY OF DUGGEE 15 

Old Pops paused in the tale and stared at the fire. Togo 
poked a cold nose at Carlie-boy’s hand. 

“And the dog star, Old Pops? What is that, and why did 
Uncle Charlie call it serious ?” he asked. 

“Oh !” said Old Pops, shaking himself so that Carlie nearly 
slid down to the floor. “Of course! The serious dog star!” 

“Well, the children of Ad wandered into a far off country 
which is called Egypt, taking the children of Duggee with 
them. The tame wolves hunted and guarded, were friends 
and companions, sentries in case of danger, nurses for little 
children left while mother and father hunted. In the new 
far country where everything was strange, the tame wolves 
became even tamer and grew closer and closer to their masters, 
the strange wild men. The old fierceness had been great — so 
now was the love they bore their masters great. The Duggees 
of that ancient time became faithful, tried and true, trust- 
worthy, loving and lovable. They never failed. They never 
slept on watch, they never went back to their wild life. 
Men grew to believe in their Duggees — to think of them as 
always tried and true friends. 

“In this far off country of Egypt is a great river, called 
Father Nile to this day. Every year Father Nile overflows 
his banks and spreads water and mud over all the great valley 
through which he flows. When the waters go back again, the 
land is left fertile so that it will grow large crops of grain. 

“It was not long before the sons of Ad saw that before 
Father Nile rose in its might and overflowed the banks, there 
was a great bright star in the east. It is still the brightest 
star of all. Its name is Sirius — not serious, Little Man o’ 
Mine, as you thought. The bright star Sirius always gave 
warning of the overflow of Father Nile. The dog — Duggee’s 
child — was the most faithful, the most loyal thing the sons of 


16 TELL-ME-WHY STORIES ABOUT ANIMALS 


Ad knew — so they gave his name to the star which meant so 
much to them. And Sirius, the dog star, it has been to this 
day — a tribute to the loving fidelity of that animal which, once 
man’s enemy, is now his truest friend among all animals. 

“And now you know why Togo turns around when he goes 
to sleep. Now you know why Togo doesn’t fear the fire un- 
less it jumps at him. Now you know why he has loving, 
round eyes instead of savage, slit-slant ones. And now you 
know why Togo gets up the moment Uncle Charlie moves — 
it is because of that secret, wonderful bond between a master 
and his dog, that chain of love which wise old Mother Nature 
used to bind together the hearts of men and the hearts of 
beasts that once were wild, but who learned, through kind- 
ness, that love and service are better than killing and strife. 
And now you know, too, why a good dog doesn’t get mad 
when a little child teases him — for the children of Duggee love 
the children of the sons of Ad.” 

“I — I don’t think I’m going to tease Togo any more, Old 
Pops,” announced Carlie-boy, reaching down a little hand to 
pat Togo at his father’s feet. “But I don’t understand — ” 
“Neither do I!” said Old Pops, very firmly indeed. “I 
never could understand why you don’t know when the end of 
a story arrives! This one has come, and I want my paper, 
and I should like to release my Middlemost Middle from my 
Small Son and let it breathe again and I think Mamma would 
like you to go and get ready for supper and — ” 

“Now, Pops!” Carlie-boy began, but then, remembering, 
“All right, Old Pops,” he went on, “and — thank you !” 

“Umph !” grunted Old Pops. 

Biut it was several minutes before he could pick up his paper. 
And that was another thing Carlie didn’t understand. But 
Togo, and all other dogs, knowing what love is, understand, 


THE STORY OF DUGGEE 


17 


and could explain very well, if they could talk man-talk with 
their mouths, and not just Duggee talk, with their tails, and 
the round eyes that have become like man’s eyes because of the 
love they have learned to look. 


The Story of the Builder with the Floppy- Woppy Tail, of the 
Special Law for Water in the Time of Cold, and 
of the Winter Dinners that Stuck Big 
Ends Between the Rocks 

C ARLIE-BOY and his Old Pops were off on a woods' 
expedition. They went up the river in a canoe, and 
Carlie-boy held the paddle his very own self and made mo- 
tions with it at the water and really and truly helped make 
the boat go. Old Pops said so, and Old Pops knows. There 
was a most marvelous picnic lunch under the trees, and a 
camp fire, and Carlie-boy put it out all by himself, with water 
and great joy. He used the frying pan, and patiently brought 
many pansful to throw upon the embers. 

“For we mustn’t leave any of Brother Fire alive here ” Old 
Pops said, “because he is fond of Tree and Grass, when Grass 
is dry. And Brother Fire is a fine servant but a very poor 
master! If we let him get too great a hold, he might burn 
up more Tree and Grass than we want!” 

Then there was more paddling, and Carlie-boy dipped his 
hands in the water, and then took off his shoes and stockings 
and dipped his feet in the water, and almost fell overboard 
and dipped all of him in the water at once, and altogether had 
a perfectly splendid time ! 

He didn’t want to turn around and go home at all ! 

“Why must we, Pops?” he said, wistfully. 

“Because there is the dam across the river and we can’t 
paddle through it!” Old Pops answered. 

“What’s a dam ?” Carlie-boy wanted to know. 

18 


THE STORY OF THE BUILDER 


19 

“Why, a dam is — a dam is a dam !” answered Old Pops. “I 
think the best way is to show you.” 

So they got out of the canoe and climbed up the bank, and 
Old Pops showed Carlie-boy the great wall built across the 
river and the lake that it made above, and the way the water 
ran over the dam, and all about it. 

“But what’s it for?” asked Carlie-boy, inquiringly. 

“This particular dam,” explained Old Pops, “is to make a 
lake of water. And the lake of water is allowed to run away 
in pipes, and it runs through the pipes down to the city and 
through many smaller pipes under the streets and the side- 
walks into our houses. So when you turn* on the spiggot in 
the bath-tub, it’s the water in this lake above this dam that is 
pressing on the water in the pipes and pushing it out — and the 
bath you take is in the water from the river. If there wasn’t 
any dam, there wouldn’t be any lake, and if there wasn’t any 
lake, there wouldn’t be any pushing water to come through the 
pipes in the bath tub.” 

“What else are dams for ?” 

Carlie-boy always thinks there is no time like the present for 
asking questions. 

“Well, sometimes they are to make lakes which press water 
through pipes to turn great water wheels. And the great 
water wheels either turn machines which make Brother Light- 
ning to light our houses and run our street cars, or perhaps 
they turn machines which men use to make things — oh, all 
sorts of things! What? Oh, shoes and automobiles and 
canoes and chairs and pianos and pins and frying pans and — 
and—” 

“And marbles and tops and baseballs and hoops?” suggested 
Carlie-boy, helpfully. 

“Exactly !” Old Pops assented, gratefully. 


20 TELL-ME-WHY STORIES ABOUT ANIMALS 


“Well, who invented dams ? And who made the first dam ? 
And how did he know how ? And what did he invent it for ? 
And what was it made of, and where is it now, and how big 
was it, and how long did it take him to build it ? — and — and — ” 
Car lie-boy stopped, out of breath. 

“Don’t let me interrupt you!” said Old Pops, politely. 
“Keep right on — go as far as you like !” 

“I — can’t just think of any more questions about it,” said 
Carlie-boy, frowning. “But I’ll try and think of some more 
if you want.” 

“The saints forbid !” cried Old Pops, using one of those non- 
sensical expressions that don’t mean anything. “I didn’t keep 
count, but I suspect you asked about ’leven or nineteen ques- 
tions without thinking. I shudder to think what you will do 
if you really try.” 

“Yes,” said Carlie-boy, not understanding, but wanting to 
be polite. “But who did? And how did he? And — ” 

“Help — help!” cried Old Pops, but he smiled as he said it. 
“Don’t begin all over again. And, anyway, this isn’t the time 
to tell stories. This is the time to stick feet in the water and 
to paddle with the hands, and to help steer the canoe, and to 
have a lot of real outdoor good time. Now, to-night, per- 
haps, when I have my slippers on, and it’s dark, and the stars 
come winking out, and you get all through playing ball, and 
curl up in a chair on the porch by me, perhaps then — ” 

“Perhaps then we will have a story — a story about dams !” 
cried Carlie-boy. “But you got one thing wrong, Pops — I 
hope you don’t mind if I tell you?” 

“Certainly not!” answered Old Pops. “What did I get 
wrong ?” 

“About me curling up in a chair ” answered Carlie-boy. 
“You meant when I curl up in your Middlemost Middle.” 


THE STORY OF THE BUILDER 


21 


“I am afraid I did get that part wrong !” said Old Pops. 

And it turned out just that way. Old Pops had gotten it 
wrong. Carlie-boy proved it that same evening. It was dark, 
and the stars were winking out, and Old Pops had on the 
slippers that keep coming off, and Carlie-boy was all through 
playing ball and he was all curled up in the Middlemost Middle 
of his Old Pops. 

“Now,” he announced, “we will begin. What is the name 
of the story?” 

“The name,” said Old Pops, solemnly, “is The Story of the 
Builder with the Floppy-Woppy Tail, of the Special Law for 
Water in the Time of Cold, and of the Winter Dinners that 
Stuck Big Ends between the Rocks.” 

“And will that tell who invented the first dam?” asked Small 
Son, doubtfully. 

“It will !” answered Old Pops. “But Pd just as soon as not 
tell you that right now. The first dam was invented and built 
by a sort of third cousin of the twice-removed brother-in-law 
of the thousand times great-grandfather of the rat!” 

“O-o-o-o-o-o-h, Pops!” cried Carlie-boy, reproachfully. 
“Don’t start the story with a joke. It couldn’t be really!” 

“It’s not a joke, and it could be, because it was!” Old Pops 
defended himself. “He isn’t really a rat, this animal that in- 
vented the dam. He is called Beaver. But he belongs to the 
family that Rat belongs to, just as Pussy-Purry-Kitty-Cat, 
there, belongs to the same family as Lion and Leopard and 
Tiger and Panther.” 

“Well!” announced Carlie-boy, with emphasis. “I suspect 
this is going to be ‘some story !’ Please begin.” 

So Old Pops began. 

“Once upon a time — oh, a great many years ago, long be- 
fore you or I were born, long before any one was born, in 


22 


TELL-ME-WHY STORIES ABOUT ANIMALS 


fact, Mother Nature gave the animals one of her Laws. It 
was the Law of Struggle. You see, if every animal that was 
born, and every fish, and every insect, and every tree, and 
every blade of grass which grew, could just have stayed 
alive and kept on growing, why, in a very short time there 
wouldn’t be any room for anything at all ! 

“Mother Nature knew this very well. 

“So she called all the animals together, and told them about 
the Law of Struggle. 

“ This is a fine old Earth/ she began, ‘and it’s a perfectly 
scrumptious place to live in. There is food for every one and 
a place for every one. There is plenty of water to drink and 
lots of trees to climb and Old Ocean to swim in, and Air and 
his Four Sons and I don’t know what all besides to make it 
nice. But if it gets too crowded, it won’t be nice at all. So 
I have had to make a Law for you, and you will just have 
to look out for yourselves. Every animal shall be food for 
some other animal. Every bit of green thing shall be food for 
some animal or insect. Every fish can be eaten by some other 
fish or animal. Every insect shall be food for some other 
insect or some animal. If you like the Earth and the good 
time you have, see that you are not eaten up ! If you are care- 
less, you will get eaten up! It’s the only way I can think of 
to keep us from getting packed tight with animals just like 
sardines in a box, so tight we couldn’t move, and then we’d 
all starve to death anyway !’ ” 

“Now, Pops!” interrupted Carlie-boy. “You know there 
weren’t any sardines in boxes before there were men !” 

“Er — ah — no, of course there couldn’t have been and — ” 

“And Mother Nature couldn’t have said that at all !” 

“I suspect she couldn’t,” sighed Old Pops. “Probably she 
said ‘packed as tight as grains of sand on the beach.’ ” 


THE STORY OF THE BUILDER 


^3 


“Yes,” said Carlie-boy, “there are a lot of them!” 

“Well,” went on Old Pops, “all the animals began to prey 
on each other. Tiger killed Deer. Deer ate Grass. Croco- 
dile ate Fish. Fish ate Insects. Insects ate other Insects- and 
Grass and Tree. Leopard ate Wolverine and Wolverine ate 
Beaver. Beaver ate Bark and killed Tree. Bear ate Shrub 
and Root and Honey. Squirrel ate Nut, and kept out of the 
way of Fox and Wolf. Everything ate everything it could 
get hold of! 

“Of course, no animal liked being eaten. You wouldn’t and 
I shouldn’t, either. So the various animals began to make 
ways by which they could do all the eating, and not be a meal 
themselves. And Mother Nature helped them all. For she 
liked to see the animals trying to protect themselves and she 
strove very hard to give to each some special advantage — 
some one way in which each could protect himself, or the more 
easily get food for himself and his family. But that, as an- 
other Old Pops has said, is another story!” 

“What other Old Pops and what other story?” asked the 
human question mark. 

“Never mind!” commanded Old Pops. “One story at a 
time ! 

“At this time,” Old Pops hurried on, before Carlie-boy could 
interrupt again, “Beaver lived — very much as he does now — 
in the water. He is a beautiful, funny, odd looking animal, is 
Beaver, about two feet long, and with a broad, flat, floppy- 
woppy tail. He has two of the sharpest little teeth you ever 
saw in each jaw, and a pair of bright eyes, and a great double 
coat of warm and beautifully soft fur, and he has one of the 
smartest little thinking machines in that small head of his you 
can imagine. 

“In these far off, early days, there was plenty of water in 


24 TELL-ME-WHY STORIES ABOUT ANIMALS 

the streams, and all the earth — or at least all of it where 
Beaver lived — was warm and pleasant. 

“But it wasn’t to stay that way. Now, I can’t begin to tell 
you all the reasons for it, but it is true, just the same. Parts 
of Earth began to get colder. You have heard the story of 
the Wonderful Blanket 1 and know what Mother Nature did 
to protect her Little Seeds in the ground. She did it by 
making snow. And she made snow by fixing water so that 
when it gets cold enough, it gets to be solid. Snow is made 
up of tiny little rain drops, each made solid by Cold. 

“But the same Cold that makes liquid rain drops into solid 
snow, also makes solid ice out of liquid river! And right 
here I want to tell you one of the most wonderful things old 
Mother Nature ever did. It is one of her Laws that hot 
things are bigger than cold things. If you will look at any 
railroad track in the winter time — street railroad track will 
do just as well as any other kind — you will see that the ends 
of the rails do not touch each other. There is a little space 
between them. If you look at the track in the hot summer, 
you will see that this little space is either all gone, or very 
much smaller. Mother Nature made it one of her Laws that 
Friend Heat, when he gets in anything, shall swell it up a 
little. When Friend Heat goes out of a thing, it shrinks up, 
smaller. Of course, the swelling and the shrinking aren’t very 
much, but they are there, just the same. When the first rail- 
way tracks were laid, with the ends of the rails touching each 
other, men found out they wouldn’t stay that way ! When a 
hot day came, and Friend Heat got into the rails, he swelled 
them up. And they squeezed against each other and pushed 
each other around and the track wouldn’t lie straight at all! 

1 The story of Mother Nature’s Mix Up and the Wonderful Blanket, 
Tell-Me-Why Stories About Mother Nature. 


THE STORY OF THE BUILDER 


25 


So men found out they must leave a little space between the 
ends of the rails, so that Friend Heat should have room to 
swell the rails in. 

“Now, to get back to snow and ice. If Mother Nature 
hadn’t made a special Law for solid water — which is ice — 
what do you think would have happened?” 

“I don’t know — what would?” asked Carlie-boy. 

“Why, if water, when it got colder and turned to ice, was 
smaller than the water it was before it was ice, it would sink. 
And if an ice sheet froze on top of a stream or a lake, and 
sank, and another ice sheet froze, and it sank, and another 
ice sheet froze and it sank too, why, it wouldn’t be very long 
before all the river or the lake was just solid ice! And then 
what would become of all the fishes and the swimming 
things — and what would have become of Crocodile and Beaver 
and Duck and Loon and all the other animals and birds who 
live part of the time in the water? And then, too, if a lake 
was just solid ice, probably it wouldn’t melt all summer long, 
and that would be a pretty how-de-do, now wouldn’t it? 

“Mother Nature saw that wouldn’t do at all. 

“ T don’t like to make one kind of Law for certain things 
and then have to make it not work in special cases !’ grumbled 
Mother Nature. Tt’s not orderly, for one thing, and it’s a 
bother, for another, and, anyway, a Law ought to be a Law 
and be the same right straight along for all the Things That 
Are. It’s a very necessary Law, too, this one about Friend 
Heat making things bigger when he gets into them and smaller 
when he gets out, but I just can’t see how I’m going to work 
it with Water and Ice. I certainly cannot afford to have all 
my Fish frozen up in Time of Cold, and I can’t tell what 
would become of Beaver, and I suppose if all my lakes and 
rivers were solid ice, they would make things so cold in 


26 TELL-ME-WHY STORIES ABOUT ANIMALS 


Warm Time that Tree and Grass couldn’t grow. Oh, I can 
see it won’t do. Well, I shall just have to make an exception 
to this Law, that’s all. Friend Heat, oh, Friend Heat, listen 
to me ! That’s a perfectly good Law about everything getting 
bigger when you get in it, and smaller when you get out. I 
know you have to have some room to work in. But it won’t 
do in the case of water and ice. I’ve got to make another 
Law here, and I want you to remember it. I make a Law 
that when you get out of Water enough for him to freeze, he 
shall swell up bigger than he was when he was Water.’ 

“ ‘What’s that for?’ Friend Heat doubtless wanted to know. 
T thought a Law was a Law and that was the end of it !’ 

“ ‘If it wasn’t for this new Law, all the rivers and lakes 
would become solid ice. Then you’d have a terrible lot of 
work to do, trying to crawl into them all summer long and 
melt them up. It really makes things easier for you, Friend 
Heat,’ said crafty old Mother Nature. ‘If Ice swells up big- 
ger than he was when he was Water, he will float on top of 
Water and help you to stay in the rest of Water and then he 
won’t all get solid !’ 

“ ‘Humph!’ spluttered Friend Heat. ‘I always did say my 
Mother was the very cleverest Mother that ever was! How 
did you ever think of that?' 

“ ‘It’s my business to think of things,’ said Mother Nature, 
but I suspect she was pleased with Friend Heat’s praise. You 
know, Mothers and Fathers do like to have their children think 
they are clever. It’s the way they are made. 

“So the new Law was made, and Water, when Friend Heat 
left him, swelled up when he turned into Ice instead of shrink- 
ing smaller. And so the ice sheets on River and Lake stayed 
on top of Water instead of sinking down. If it wasn’t so, we 
wouldn’t have any skating in winter, and all the water animals 


THE STORY OF THE BUILDER 


27 


and fish would be frozen solid. If it wasn’t for that Law, too, 
we wouldn’t have any burst water pipes. Of course, Mother 
Nature didn’t think about the pipes Man would some day use 
to carry water in, and probably she wouldn’t have cared if she 
did. Bait we have to be careful that the water pipes in our 
house don’t get so cold that the water in them freezes. Be- 
cause, when Water in pipes turns into Ice, he swells, just as he 
does on Lake or River, and if there isn’t room for him to 
swell in, he just bursts the iron pipe as easily as anything. 
Then the Plumber Man is very glad, and Old Pops is very 
sorry and Cook is cross, and everything is very uncomfortable! 

“Well, let us get back to Beaver and the streams where he 
lived. 

“When Beaver found out that Wolverine and Wolf and 
Lynx and other animals would eat him if they could, he soon 
learned to build his home out of reach of those animals who 
liked him for a meal. Mother Nature gave to Beaver a won- 
derful ability. She gave him a broad, flat tail, and he uses it 
to swim with. She gave him cunning little forepaws, almost 
as good as hands. And she gave him wonderful sharp teeth, 
and a clever little head. She didn’t give him speed on his 
legs, nor has he wonderful weapons, like Tiger’s claws or 
Lion’s teeth or Elephant’s trunk or Bear’s great strength to 
hug or Python’s crawly-wawly-twisty-wisty-squirmy-wirmy- 
squeezy-weezy-squinchy-winchy way of curling himself around 
anything and just crushing it to pieces. So Beaver had to 
make the most of what he had. 

“The way he makes the most of what he has is very interest- 
ing indeed. He builds a house out in the water! He builds 
it of sticks and logs and mud and leaves and moss. With his 
little hatchet-chisel teeth he can cut down trees, and clip off 
branches. With these he builds his house. We call his house 


28 TELL-ME-WHY STORIES ABOUT ANIMALS 


a Lodge, because it is shaped something like the Indian house 
or Indian Lodge. 

“Beaver is very clever. He has two front doors and both 
of them are underneath the water! If any animal wants to 
get into Beaver’s house, he has to dive and swim in. And as 
most of the animals that like to eat Beaver don’t dive and 
swim, Beaver is perfectly safe in his house with its doorways 
under water. 

“The chinks between the sticks and logs that Beaver sets up 
in the mud of the stream to make his house — how do you think 
Beaver fills them up? Why, he gathers great arms full of 
mud, and carries it out to his Lodge and plasters it all up 
and down the sticks. And Beaver waits until Friend Heat 
has gone away and Cold has come, to do his plastering. Isn’t 
that clever of him? For then the water in the mud gets hard 
and turns to ice and the mud is like an iron armor to his Lodge 
and nothing that lives or walks or crawls through the woods in 
winter can break it down or get in ! 

“ T don’t like that !’ said Wolverine to Lynx, watching. 
‘Beaver is a very nice, fat meal. And what with a Lodge out 
in the water and a frozen mud cover, and Beaver more like 
Fish than a respectable animal, why I don’t see how I’m going 
to get hold of him at all/ 

“ ‘It is sort of difficult/ agreed Lynx. ‘I think if I sit on 
this branch and watch, very carefully, I may catch him when he 
comes ashore after the bark of Tree that he eats/ 

“Beaver, sitting in his Lodge, snug above the water line, 
and inside his frozen mud coating, made a funny little noise 
way down in his insides. I suspect it was a sort of Beaver 
laugh. 

“ ‘Probably you will catch me if I come ashore after bark,’ 
Beaver said to Lynx, and for Mrs. Beaver to listen and ad~ 











ft r< 


V 1 

yMK Six- • v 5 




•*aoST - * v r 





v 'iff?' 






- :# ■■:? 




ll 

jtil; 1 '. p --fl 

Js*|| 

jv. ^ 

V Jf f . !| ‘f.f 



_ j V.'.| »’ J 


“Do you see what that scamp of a Beaver 


is doing?” asked Wolf of Bear 







THE STORY OF THE BUILDER 


29 

mire. ‘Only I am not coming ashore while you are on that tree, 
Mr. Lynx!’ 

“And he didn't either. But he found it harder and harder 
to get things to eat in Time of Cold, what with Lynx 
and Wolverine and Wolf and Otter and all, prowling around 
and waiting for him to come ashore and be eaten up. So 
Beaver used his clever little head and in the next Warm Time, 
he laid in a big log supply to eat the bark from next Time 
of Cold. He would come ashore and cut down a tree, and 
cut off the limbs and then he would drag them out into the 
water. And then he would push and pull and swim and tug 
and paddle and splash and haul and yank and presently he 
would have the log out in the water, near the Lodge. Then 
would come the tug of tugs, and Beaver, paddling with his tail 
and probably kicking out hard with his hind teet, would just 
swim right down to the bottom of the stream with that log 
and bury it in the mud. And the kind of wood he likes to eat 
the bark from — poplar and cottonwood and willow and alder 
— do not float so very strongly. So he can manage to sink 
the logs by hard work, and thus have a lot of nice din- 
ners down under the ice when the Time of Cold comes 
again. 

“ ‘Do you see what that scamp of a Beaver is doing?' asked 
Wolf of Bear one day, angrily. ‘He is getting ready for 
Time of Cold! I know! He is just laying in a supply of 
dinners so he won’t have to come ashore !' 

“ ‘Why don't you go and catch him while he is doing it ?' 
grumbled Bear, batting big paws at some bees flying around 
him. 

“Bear had just robbed a honey tree and was all sticky with 
the sweet stuff, and the bees thought he was a sort of walking 
flower. 


30 


TELL-ME-WHY STORIES ABOUT ANIMALS 


“ ‘Humph !’ sniffed Wolf. T guess you never tried to catch 
Beaver, did you ?’ 

“ ‘No, too small to bother with — besides, I don’t eat Beaver 
when I can get honey and roots and berries.’ 

“ ‘Well, while Beaver is ashore cutting logs,’ explained 
Wolf, ‘Mrs. Beaver sits out there near the Lodge. And if she 
sees me coming she dives and gives a great flop-wop with her 
tail on the water. And every Beaver around just naturally 
scuttles for the water and dives. It’s a regular signal they 
have. Flop-wop with the tail means ‘look out,’ and they do 
look out. I’m going to go and see if I can’t find a bird to 
catch. Beaver is too frisky for me!’ 

“Beaver learned that little trick all by himself. Beaver 
has a very keen ear. He can hear sounds. — even little sounds 
— very easily. And he is very, very timid. He knows he 
can’t fight — he knows he isn’t made to kill other animals. 
And he knows other animals like to kill and eat him. So he 
goes flop-wop with his tail on the water when he dives away 
from danger and every Beaver knows the signal and dives too. 

“In the early days of the world the streams were broad and 
deep. But as Earth got older and the slopes of the hills 
were not so steep, and Friend Heat stopped fussing around 
so much with Cloud and Water and Rain, they became less 
full of water. This was nice for the animals that live on 
Earth, and, indeed, it was all a part of the Great Plan by 
which Mother Nature was getting Earth ready for Man, who 
should one day come and rule the Earth and all the Animals 
and the Fishes and the Birds and take command of all the 
Things That Are, and make them labor and work for him, 
and make of the Earth a beautiful place not only for the Ani- 
mals and the Birds and the Fishes, but for little children and 
their children and their children’s children and so on. 


THE STORY OF THE BUILDER 


3i 


“But it wasn’t nice for Beaver. Of course, Mother Nature’s 
Law about the ice kept the ice sheets from sinking. But it 
didn’t keep them from getting pretty thick. Sometimes they 
get several feet thick, in the real cold places. Now if a 
stream is only two feet deep and the ice gets two feet thick, 
then there isn’t any more water left for Beaver ! 

“Moreover, Beaver likes good, deep water to swim in, and 
to build his Lodges in, and to raise his families in, and he needs 
some room under the ice in the Time of Cold to swim about in 
and dig up his buried logs with their Time of Cold dinners 
of bark. 

“Beaver went to Mother Nature and complained. 

“ T don’t have as much water as I used to have,’ he cried. 
'My father and my grandfather and their fathers had lots 
more. Why, I remember when I was a little Beaver kid, that 
the water was just as deep, as deep, under the ice, and now 
look at it!’ 

“ Tm sorry, Beaver, child,’ answered Mother Nature. 'But 
I can’t make any more Laws. Use your head. It’s a good 
one — and that’s what it’s for.’ 

“Beaver went off, grumbling. He didn’t like it. There 
used to be more water. It wasn’t nice when there wasn’t a 
lot of water. How was he going to make more water by using 
his head ? What had a head got to do with deep water, any- 
way? Certainly, he didn’t like it. No, by Dead Leaves and 
Water Soaked Moss, he didn’t. But he didn’t know what he 
was going to do about it. Well, grumbling wouldn’t do any 
good. And there were all the dinners for the Time of Cold 
to lay in. Perhaps he’d better attend to that now, and think 
about more water later on. 

“Lifting his timid, bright-eyed head carefully, Beaver looked 
about him. No, there wasn’t a sign of Wolf or Lynx or Wol- 


32 


TELL-ME-WHY STORIES ABOUT ANIMALS 


verine or any of the Killing Animals. It would be safe to go 
and cut down a tree. He had noticed a particularly nice 
looking cottonwood tree yesterday — he would go and cut it 
down now, and lop off some branches and get his food ready 
for the Time of Cold. 

“So Beaver came ashore and selected his tree and began 
to cut it down. There are people who say Beaver gnaws down 
a tree, as if he just chewed his way through it. But it isn’t 
so at all, and Beaver didn’t work that way then, any more than 
he does now. When he cuts down a tree, or cuts it up into 
pieces, he works just as does a man with an ax. Perhaps it is 
more true to say the man with the ax cuts down a tree the 
way Beaver does, since Beaver cut down trees long before 
the first Man made and used the first ax ! 

“He takes a bite with his long, sharp, chisel-like teeth. 
That makes a cut in the bark and in the wood beneath. Then, 
a distance from this first cut, he makes another cut. When he 
has made two cuts, he proceeds to get his sharp teeth in under 
the wood that lies between and takes out a chip of wood , the 
length of the space between the cuts! This is exactly the 
way the man with the ax works. He, too, makes two cuts 
and slices out the chips in between. In that way the tree soon 
gets ready to topple over. Beaver not only cuts down his tree 
with the same method that a man uses, but he knows — clever 
little beast — how to make the tree fall the way he wants (at 
least, so say some wise men who have studied Beaver), by 
cutting more on one side than on another, though how Mother 
Nature taught her bright-eyed child that, is something she has 
never told!” 

“I should think it would wear his teeth out!” said Carlie- 
boy. “Doesn’t it?” 

“It does,” answered Old Pops. “But Mother Nature has 


THE STORY OF THE BUILDER 


33 


fixed that. She has given Beaver teeth that never stop grow- 
ing! As fast as he wears them out, cutting down trees, they 
grow, and so keep just the right length. She is a very, very 
clever old lady, is Mother Nature ! 

“Well, Beaver cut down his tree, and cut it up into lengths 
and hauled out all the big branches. Then he took one of the 
logs — the fine, juicy-barlced logs that represented such nice 
dinners for the Time of Cold — and dragged it into the water 
and began to tow it up-stream. He towed it through the 
water big end first — because that was the easiest way to do 
it. All of a sudden, he found it wouldn’t go any further. 

“ ‘That’s funny,’ said Beaver to himself. ‘What’s holding 
it?’ 

“So he let go and swam back and looked — and found that 
his log was stuck between two rocks. 

“‘Humph!’ said Beaver to himself. ‘That’s a bother. 
Now, I’ve got to go and get another.’ 

“So off he went and cut off another log with his sharp little 
teeth and pointed the big end the way he wanted to go and 
swam up stream with that. 

“Now, do you know, that just when he got to the other log 
— the one that was stuck between two rocks — this one stuck, 
too? 

“ ‘Slippery Mud and Rotten Bark !’ scolded Beaver. ‘This 
is certainly troublesome. I never had so much hard work 
getting a log up to the Place-to-Bury-It before. Crooked 
Sticks and Slushy Ice !’ 

“These, I suppose, were very emphatic Beaver words, in- 
deed! 

“Back went Beaver and cut off another log, and turned it big 
end up stream' and swam with it. And it stuck by the other 
ones. And Beaver went back and got another log, and it 


34 TELL-ME-WHY STORIES ABOUT ANIMALS 

stuck, and still another one, and it stuck, and the more logs he 
tried to drag up through the rocky place, the more they stuck, 
until finally Beaver stopped work, thoroughly tired out and 
disgusted. The space between the rocks where the logs stuck 
was so choked up with logs that Beaver couldn’t swim up 
stream to his Lodge at all. He had to climb out on the bank 
— keeping a very sharp look out for Lynx and Wolf and Wol- 
verine, you may be sure — and go around all the stuck logs. 

“Then Beaver had the surprise of his young life. Paddling 
around in a large sheet of water was Mrs. Beaver and several 
little Beavers. And there wasn’t a sign of his Lodge — it was 
gone! 

“ ‘What the Muddy Water and Floppy Tails does this 
mean?’ asked Beaver, very crossly. 

“ ‘I’m sure I don’t know,’ said Mrs. Beaver, paddling with 
her tail and looking very worried. ‘But all the water began to 
get higher and higher and it came up in the Lodge and we had 
to come out and now it’s way over the top of the Lodge and 
the children are sleepy and I don’t know what to do, I’m 
sure !’ 

“ ‘Do ?’ said Beaver. ‘Do ? Why, build another Lodge, to 
be sure.’ 

“So off they set, the whole family, and they cut down trees, 
and lopped off sticks, and dragged them out in the water and 
planted them, and brought mud and leaves and moss and 
paddled with their tails and poked with their cunning little 
forepaws and were most desperately busy building another 
Lodge. They were a pretty tired family when they got 
through, but they had a home. 

“ ‘And, anyway,’ said Beaver, ‘it’s lots nicer to have all this 
deep water. I complained to Mother Nature this morning, 
and she said she couldn’t do anything, but I guess she did.’ 


THE STORY OF THE BUILDER 


35 


“ 'No she didn’t!’ cried Mrs. Beaver. Tf she said she 
couldn’t, she couldn’t. Mother Nature never says things that 
are not so. Something else made this water get big, like 
this.’ 

“Beaver was too weary to argue, but the next day he de- 
cided he’d go and have another try at getting those stuck logs 
up to his Lodge. He had worked very hard, he remembered, 
cutting them down, and his teeth were tired. He wanted those 
logs for his winter food. They were especially nice and juicy 
logs with most lusciously-fine-and-tender bark. So he came 
down to the place where his winter dinners had stuck between 
the rocks. And then he commenced to do as Mother Nature 
had told him to, and to use his head. The logs were jammed 
in tight between the rocks. Mud and brush and dry leaves 
had drifted down against the logs. They had formed a wall 
across the little stream and the water in the stream had tried 
to get past the logs and couldn’t and so had crept up and up 
and up the wall until it got to the top and ran, tinkling and 
dropping, over the edge. And because one of Mother Nature’s 
great Laws is that water must always have a level surface, 
the water had spread out and formed a perfectly flat lake, and 
of course had become deeper and deeper as it spread out and 
crept up the wall of logs. 

“Beaver was delighted. 

“ ‘So that's why I had to work so hard on a new Lodge,’ 
he said to himself. ‘And that’s the way to get deeper water 
— just haul dinners up stream until they stick between the 
rocks !’ 

“It was a great discovery, and Beaver could hardly wait to 
go and get Mrs. Beaver and tell her about it. And I have no 
doubt she flopped her tail in delight and made funny little 
Beaver noises, and probably told Beaver what a very clever 


36 TELL-ME-WHY STORIES ABOUT ANIMALS 

Old Pops Beaver he was. I suspect that Beaver swelled up 
with pride and waved his floppy-woppy tail very grandly in the 
air, and probably ordered all the Beaver children around just to 
show he was the boss of that particular Beaver family. Which 
was rather absurd of him, because he hadn’t really invented the 
wall across the stream at all ! 

“But whether he did invent it, and think it all out, as some 
people who love animals really believe, or whether the first 
Beaver dam was just some accident like this one, we must all 
give Beaver credit for remembering, and for his cleverness in 
making the dams he does. For Beaver did remember, and year 
after year he dammed the little stream and made it deeper 
and plastered the logs with mud just as he did the Lodge. 
And he found that the dam not only gave him nice wide lakes 
of water to swim in, but that by the dams he built he could 
make it so deep that no matter how much the Time of Cold 
froze the water on top into ice, there was always water below 
it for him to swim in, and to bring his buried bark dinners up 
from the mud and carry them into his Lodge where Mrs. 
Beaver and all the little Beavers were as snug as snug could be ! 

“Beaver learned to make two front doors to his Lodge, one 
below the other, so that if the ice got very thick indeed, and 
stopped up one door, there would always be the other one, 
deep down, that he could use. Beaver learned to keep a hole 
open in the ice, by breaking it as fast as it formed, always in 
one place, so that he could, if he wanted to, get out of his 
Lodge and up on the ice and go ashore. Of course, he doesn’t 
go ashore very much in the Time of Cold — Wolverine and 
Wolf and Lynx and the Killing Animals that like Beaver for 
dinner are especially hungry in winter time, and Beaver knows 
it! But he has the hole in the ice ready for use if he needs 


THE STORY OF THE BUILDER 


37 


“Now, this Beaver that I have told you about was, I should 
say, the two million nine hundred and fifty-seven thousand 
eight hundred and sixty-seventh great-great-great-grandfather 
of the Beavers of to-day. What? Oh, I don’t know — I’m 
just guessing. If you don’t like that number, you can choose 
another one. It isn’t important. What is important is that 
this Beaver taught Mrs. Beaver and all the little Beavers about 
how to make a dam out of dinners, and they grew up and made 
Lodges of their own, and taught their Mrs. Beavers and all 
their little Beavers, and the little Beaver grandchildren, when 
they grew up and had Lodges of their own, they taught all 
their little Beavers the same thing, and so on and so on for 
ever. Each family of Beavers pulled its dinners up stream big 
ends first and pushed them into and against the rocks. They 
found out how to cut down a tree so that it would fall against 
the bank just the right way to make a sort of backbone of the 
dam, and that they could use it to wedge logs against if the 
rocks weren’t placed just right. 

“And somehow, some way, they found out something else — 
that if the stream is wide and the water runs swiftly, the dams 
are stronger if they are bent in the middle, with the bent or 
curved part pointing up stream. 

“Each of the Beaver children, when he got to making dams 
of his own, found out a little more about making dams than 
his father knew. They taught what they found out to their 
children. So to-day the Beaver is the very cleverest of dam 
builders, and great engineers, who build dams of stone, such 
as we saw to-day, have gone to the Beaver to wonder and to 
marvel at the knowledge these little animals have of how to 
place their dams, of how to build them strong and sure against 
the current, of how to anchor the ends against the shore. 
Wise men say it is the instinct in the Beaver that makes him 


38 TELL-ME-WHY STORIES ABOUT ANIMALS 


know how to build his dams, and how to cut down his trees, 
and how to place the logs, and how to use his tail for a signal 
and all the rest of it. But back of instinct is Mother Nature 
and the Law of Struggle and her fairness in giving to each 
and every one of her children some special way of preserving 
himself from being eaten by the Killing Animals, some special 
defense against the Things That Are when they get too 
strong for animals and fishes. 

“To the Tiger she gave claws and strength. To the Mouse 
she gave keen eyes and ears and quickness of feet. To the 
Eagle she gave wings and powerful eyes, to the Monkey, 
hands and tail and fearlessness in the trees. And to Beaver she 
gave sharp, ever growing teeth, that cut down trees, warm fur, 
that stands the water, a broad, flat, floppy-woppy tail that 
swims and beats the water, cunning little hand-like claws that 
pluck and carry twigs and mud. But above all, to Beaver, who 
hurts no animal, and who is timid and fearful of harm, she 
gave this wonderful ability to plan, to make his water home 
secure from harm, to build the dam which makes the water 
deep enough so that the ice shall not take all his winter living 
room away. 

“So it is Beaver, who belongs to the same family that Rat 
does, who built the first dam, Little Lad, and Man, when he 
came on Earth, must have learned of dams from the Beaver. 
Where the first dam was made, no one knows. It is gone, 
long, long ago. But who built the first dam we know very 
well, and so, when next you go with me in the canoe and see 
the big stone dam across the river, which makes the lake by 
which we get the water in the pipes in our houses, you can look 
at it and know that, big and fine though it is, it is, after all, 
but an imitation of the work of that cleverest of animals, the 


THE STORY OF THE BUILDER 


39 

owner of the floppy- woppy tail and the First of All First Build- 
ers to raise the level of a stream.” 

“Is that the end of the story ?” inquired Carlie-boy, scrooch- 
ing hopefully around in his Old Pops’ Middlemost Middle 
as if that would make more story come out. 

“It is— oh !” grunted Old Pops. “And—” 

“Then it’s bath time!” said Mamma, over the stairs. 

“Oh!” cried Old Pops, again. “I didn’t know Mrs. Old 
Pops was listening!” 

“Oh, Mamma!” cried Carlie-boy, “do you know where the 
water in the bath tub comes from? And say, wouldn’t it be 
perfectly fine to build a dam across it? I could use some 
kindling wood, and there is the dirt about your ferns, and I am 
sure I could get some grass to use instead of moss and — ” 

“Well, not to-night!” said Mamma. “But I don’t know 
where the water comes from and I should like very much to 
have you tell me. You see, I only heard the last part of the 
story.” 

“I’d like to build a dam,” said Carlie-boy, wistfully. “Still 
— well, I’ll tell you all about it.” 

Carlie-boy got off his Old Pops’ Centermost Center and Old 
Pops grunted again. Then Small Son turned to his father. 
Two little arms went ’round his neck and a small red cheek 
nuzzled against the darker, rough one. 

“Thank you, Old Pops,” said a grateful voice. “I was 
right, too.” 

“Were you?” inquired Old Pops. “About what?” 

“About the story. I said it sounded like ‘some story,’ and it 
was ! N ighty-night !” 


The Story of Swift-Swift, and of Nudin and His Terrible 
Ride, and of the Leadership of the Tribe of Uzzi 

I T was a warm sunny day — just the sort of day when little 
boys and little girls ought to be happy. It was also the 
nicest kind of a day for a horse, because it wasn’t too hot, 
and the roads were not too dusty, and the air was not too full 
of insects and flies. 

In the middle of the road in front of the Colonel’s beautiful 
country home in the beautiful valley stood Barney, the big 
black horse. In the middle of Barney sat Carlie-boy, the 
picturest-picture of joyfully-joy and blissy-bliss you ever saw! 

It was the first time that Carlie-boy had ever been on Bar- 
ney’s back all by himself. That Marvin was holding on to the 
reins made no difference — there wasn’t any Colonel (who 
owned the horse) sitting there holding him. And he could 
coax Marvin to let go, by and by, and guide Barney all by his 
very own self. 

He had planned this excursion ever since the Colonel had let 
him sit in front while he rode Barney into town. And now, 
at last, here he was on top of Barney alone. He had been 
going to gallop — yes, and jump fences, and just tear up and 
down the road. But now, on the whole, he thought perhaps 
it would be better if Barney just walked. Too much ’cite- 
ment isn’t good' for little boys — he had heard Mamma say so. 
And it would be very ’citing indeed if Barney even trotted. 
Perhaps Marvin had better hold on to the — the thing in 
Barney’s mouth, for a while after all. Anyway, just to sit 
alone on Barney’s back was really and truly riding! 

40 


THE STORY OF SWIFT-SWIFT 


4i 


Well, you can imagine what a good time they had; Barney, 
because he had such a very light load to carry, and because he 
wasn’t asked to go out of a walk; Marvin, because he always 
had a good time when little Carlie-boy was around playing, 
and keeping Marvin from his work and generally, so it 
seemed, bothering the life out of him; and Carlie-boy because 
he was almost a grown up man, sitting on Barney’s back and 
going to gallop next time, sure ! 

So when Carlie-boy spread himself, like a big piece of 
butter, all over Old Pops in the chair on the porch, that even- 
ing, it was a certainty that he would talk about Barney. The 
stars came out, one by one, and there was a faint light behind 
the big mountains across the pretty valley, where the moon 
was getting ready to get up. A little breeze stirred the trees, 
and the yard was full of fireflies. Back in the stable, if you 
listened carefully, you could hear a faint chomp-chomp — 
Barney was having his supper. It was very quiet and solemn, 
and sort of witchy-magicky, there on the porch, looking out on 
the big mountains, and suddenly Carlie-boy felt very, very 
small indeed, and not at all like a big man who was going to 
gallop on Barney the very next time he had a chance. 

‘Tops,” he said, very softly, after a while, “why is a 
horse?” 

“Huh?” said Old Pops. 

“I mean — ” Carlie-boy stopped to think just what he did 
mean. “I mean — why is a horse a horse, and where did he 
come from, and who rode the first horse, and how did he 
learn, and why did I feel so funny when Barney looked at me 
out of his big eyes?” 

Now, this sounds like a very foolish question. But Old 
Pops is used to peculiar questions. He knew what Carlie-boy 
meant. And it was altogether too solemny-solemn there in 


42 TELL-ME-WHY STORIES ABOUT ANIMALS 


the centermost-center of the valley, with the big towering 
mountains and the soft night wind whispering strange secrets 
— much too witch-magicky indeed — to laugh. 

“I have a premonitory presumption, a preliminary prevision, 
not to say a prophetic probability in my cosmos,” drawled Old 
Pops, using long words that might mean something if you only 
knew what they were, “that that question means a story.” 

“I don’t know about those pre — prop things,” answered 
Carlie-boy, sticking one knee comfortably into Old Pops’ 
middle and holding on to his beard with his left hand, “but I 
do about the story part. Tell me why.” 

“Very well!” Old Pops answered, sort of heaving himself 
in the chair and settling back with a grunt. It isn’t polite 
to grunt, but Carlie-boy is getting heavy. “I will tell you 
the strange story of the Swift-Swift and of Nudin, who be- 
came Swift-or-swift by a Terrible Ride that made him Leader 
of the Tribe of Uzzi!” 

“What?” said Carlie-boy, wondering. “What kind of a 
story is that ? And what’s that got to do with Barney and the 
first horse ?” 

“Never mind!” answered Old Pops. “You listen.” 

“I’m listenin’,” agreed Carlie-boy. 

So Old Pops began. 

“When you get to be a big boy, you will study something 
called history. History is a story, a wonderful story of things 
that really happened, or that we believe to have happened, 
to all the people who have lived in the world. It is about 
kings and slaves and armies and fights and things like that. 
But there was once a time when there wasn’t any history — 
a time of which we know but little, because it was before men 
knew how to write the story of what happened to them. 
We call this time the prehistoric time — a great big word which 


THE STORY OF SWIFT-SWIFT 43 

means ‘before the time when there was a story about every 
one.' 

“We do know something about some of this prehistoric 
time, because the men of that far off age made things which 
we have found, deeply buried in the earth. For instance, they 
made tools out of stone — stone axes, beautifully polished, and 
stone arrowheads, and stone drinking and cooking vessels. 
They hadn't learned anything about iron yet, or how to get 
gold out of the earth, or what copper or brass or bronze might 
be. Their materials were wood and stone and cords, made 
from twisted grass, and also from the skins of animals. 
Sometimes we call this time the Stone Age of Man, because he 
did so much with stone." 

“But, Papa, what do you know about this Stone Age?" 
Carlie-boy wanted to know. 

“I don’t know anything for really, surely, honest-to-good- 
ness, because I wasn’t there, you know, but I am sure that if 
this story isn’t exactly and precisely as it really happened, 
it might have been just this way," answered Old Pops. “So 
you will please not interrupt !’’ 

“All right, I won’t!" agreed Carlie-boy. 

“In a far off country, then, in the Stone Age, there lived 
a tribe of men who had lost their leader. Poor chap, he had 
gone out from the Place of Sleeping, which was a big cave 
in a cliff, and had never come back. Whether an elephant had 
stepped on him, or whether the hyenas had eaten him, or 
whether some of the great, climbing cats had been hungry, no 
one knew — Nar-ghee was gone. 

“So the Tribe of Uzzi sat down about a great Council Fire 
to choose who should be their leader. If you will look out 
over there" — pointing towards the towering, frowning moun- 
tains — “you can imagine that that bright light in the way-way- 


44 TELL-ME-WHY STORIES ABOUT ANIMALS 

off is their camp fire. If you will shut your eyes half way and 
think very hard, you can see that there are very strong men 
walking about the fire. They have skins about them, to keep 
them warm, and near each man as he sits you will see a great 
stone ax, its handle bound to the stone with withes or cords of 
willow. There are a whole lot of little children, tumbling and 
playing about the fire, and back in the deep, dark cave you 
can see a Mamma or two, hushing some Little Brother to sleep. 
Here and there is a great bow and a pile of rude arrows, and 
many warm skins everywhere to use as bed and covers alike. 
For the Tribe of Uzzi lived on meat and meat means killing 
animals and every animal’s skin was good for something, so 
that every time Nar-ghee had killed a leopard, for instance, 
there had been a new skin, and whenever he had been lucky 
enough to slay a Swift-Swift, there had been both a skin and a 
meal. The Uzzi people didn’t eat leopard or any of the cats 
unless they were very hungry indeed, but the Swift-Swift 
lived on grass and shrubs and was very good eating, indeed, 
although we wouldn’t think so. 

‘‘Yes, I know you don’t know what a Swift-Swift is. 
Neither did the Tribe of Uzzi. It was an animal that looked 
something like a horse, only smaller and stockier and much 
more hairy. Unlike most of the animals the Tribe of Uzzi 
knew, it neither bit nor scratched — it just ran away! And 
when it came to running, only the antelope and one of the 
great cats — the thousand times great grandfathers of those 
animals we call cheetahs — could run as fast. But while the 
antelope and the cheetah could catch the Swift-Swift in a 
short race, in a long one they wouldn’t be anywhere near the 
finish! For the Swift-Swift could run for hours and never 
tire. 

“Well, let us get back to that little fire across the valley, 


THE STORY OF SWIFT-SWIFT 


45 


which you are to suppose is a great big fire against the mouth 
of a deep cave. The Tribe of Uzzi are going to choose a 
new leader. Nar-ghee is lost and probably dead. Good-by, 
Nar-ghee. We are very sorry, but you shouldn’t have wan- 
dered around in the night. Now the question is, who is to 
succeed Nar-ghee? 

“Urg-get rose to his feet. He was an old man, and his 
hair was white, and he had much wisdom. Indeed, he had 
once been a leader himself, but he had had a long sickness, 
and when he was well he wasn’t strong enough any more. So 
the Uzzi let him sit by the fire at night and bring wood in the 
day time, and gave him of their food to eat, all because he was 
wise. Usually when a man or woman couldn’t work and kill 
and skin and make himself useful, he died. Urg-get was wise, 
and so he lived. 

“ ‘Nar-ghee is gone,’ he said, very slowly. ‘Nar-ghee, too 
much walk about. Mreauw, great cat, eat him up. Let us 
make Fis-cash leader in his place.’ 

“All the friends of Fis-cash jumped to their feet and brand- 
ished their stone axes and shouted aloud. 

“ ‘Yes, let us make Fis-cash leader,’ they cried. ‘Who so 
wise and strong as Fis-cash? Who can catch the Water 
Livers like Fis-cash? Let Fis-cash be our leader.’ 

“Then Nonum got on his feet. Nonum was one of the 
young men of the tribe. He hadn’t done anything yet to get a 
name. He hadn’t killed any specially dangerous animal or 
had any great fight or run any great race or even gone to a 
neighboring tribe and brought back a wife as yet. When he 
did, he would get another name, but now he was just Nonum. 

“ ‘Not sol’ he cried loudly. ‘I am but Nonum, and should 
wait when others may have much wise talk to speak. But let 
us not forget that Fis-cash has a great white wound in his leg, 


46 TELL-ME-WHY STORIES ABOUT ANIMALS 

which he got when he stayed too long asleep. Shall a sleepy 
man be leader of the Uzzi?’ 

“At this, there was a great outcry, and the friends of 
Nonum dragged Fis-cash to the firelight and held him while 
they looked at his leg. It was as Nonum had said — a great 
white scar showed up and down the leg. The Tribe of Uzzi 
had forgotten — they never remembered unimportant things 
very long — and Fis-cash had gotten over it, so what was the 
use? But they remembered when Nonum showed them. Fis- 
cash had been surprised while asleep — a hyena had taken a 
bite of him, and though he woke righl up and killed the hyena 
with his ax, still he had been asleep at the wrong time. This 
would never do in a leader. Nar-ghee would wake at the 
softest footfall while it was yet half a stone’s cast away. 

“Then Nudin jumped up from his skin and strode into the 
firelight. Nudin hadn’t any real name, either, but when he 
was a little boy he had fallen into the muddy slime at the 
edge of the river where the marsh came down to meet the 
water and all his companions had called him Muddy and 
Drinker-of-Mud, and thrown little stones at him. And be- 
cause he had shown that he didn’t like it and thrown the 
stones back again, and finally burst out crying, the name stuck. 
Only his mother had had two of her teeth knocked out once 
when she undertook to dispute with another woman who 
owned a certain skin, and so she couldn’t talk very plainly, and 
his name had become Nu-din, and Nu-din he would remain 
until he, too, distinguished himself. 

“ ‘Nonum is right !’ he cried, loudly. ‘Nar-ghee is gone and 
Fis-cash is slow to wake, and Urg-get is old. Let us not 
choose a leader now. Let Urg-get be leader until one of us 
does that which is brave or of much wonder, and then let 
him be the leader !’ 


THE STORY OF SWIFT-SWIFT 


47 


“Then there was a great outcry indeed. Every one wanted 
to be leader then and there. There had never been any wait- 
ing. When a leader got killed or lost, they chose a new one. 
But at last, because they couldn’t agree, and because there 
were so many who wanted to be leader that it looked as if the 
meeting would end in a free fight, they agreed to wait a whole 
moon (which means a month) to see if some one should prove 
himself worthy to be a leader. 

“Nudin and Nonum went off together the next day, hunt- 
ing. They were stocky, muscular lads — about eighteen or 
twenty year£ old. They carried their bows and arrows and 
each had a stone ax and Nudin had besides a bone knife for 
skinning. 

“ ‘Nonum/ said Nudin, ‘I will be leader of the Uzzi. I 
will do something brave and they will choose me for a leader/ 

“ ‘Nudin/ answered Nonum, ‘why should I not also do 
something wonderful, and then I will be leader of the Uzzi ?’ 

“ ‘We cannot both be leaders of the Uzzi/ said Nudin. ‘It 
must be a race between us/ 

“ ‘Yes/ agreed Nonum, ‘but how shall we race?’ 

“ ‘Thus/ answered Nudin. ‘I have heard my mother, who 
was taken from the tribe of the Sons of Ad by my father, tell 
of how her father, of many sands of many moons ago, tamed 
the first Duggee and made it into a dog. And he was leader 
of the tribe of the Sons of Ad until he died. Let us, too, 
see if we cannot tame a beast and make it useful/ 

“ ‘But/ objected Nonum, ‘we may get killed. Would you 
tame Urg-Urg, the great bear, or Mreauw, the big cat, or 
Pad-Pad, the little one who catches Swift-Swift in a short 
run?’ 

“‘Not so!’ replied Nudin. ‘Let us choose a beast that 
does not bite, so shall we have whole skins. Let us — let us 


48 TELL-ME-WHY STORIES ABOUT ANIMALS 

choose Swift-Swift. Whoever shall catch Swift-Swift and 
bring him alive to the Council Fire will be great indeed, and he 
shall be leader of the Uzzi.’ 

“ ‘And how will you catch and tame Swift-Swift?’ de- 
manded Nonum. ‘Hard he is to kill with a strong bow — 
never have we been close to him alive. Nothing save Pad- 
Pad and Wippit runs as Swift-Swift runs, and not even Wip- 
pit is more fearful of the Uzzi.’ 

“ ‘Yet I will do it!’ answered Nudin. ‘It is a race between 
us.’ 

“Nonum tried several times to get Nudin to tell him how he 
was going to tame Swift-Swift, but Nudin kept silent. 

“After that first day, Nudin went off every day by himself. 

“ ‘No,’ he cried to Nonum, when he would have come 
too. ‘It is a race between us. Go you your way and 
let me go mine, and whoever tames Swift-Swift before the 
moon again goes to visit the sun shall sit at the head of the 
Council Fire/ 

“Nudin knew Swift-Swift to be very fond of company. 
Always Swift-Swift traveled with many of his kin in packs, 
very much as did Duggee, the wolf. He also knew — had he 
not many times joined in the chase? — that Swift-Swift was 
timid, that he ran away at the first hint of danger and that 
never the man lived who could catch him, once his four swift 
feet were spuming the grass. So it was by cunning and not 
by speed that Swift-Swift must be caught. Nor would it do 
to shoot him. Nudin was strong and could bend and shoot 
his father’s big bow, and none of the Uzzi could cast the 
throwing stone straighter or further than Nudin. But it 
was not enough to kill Swift-Swift for food, or to wound him 
and drag him to camp — it must be a live Swift-Swift that he 
should lead to the head of the Council Fire. 


THE STORY OF SWIFT-SWIFT 


49 


“Not very far from the Cave where the Uzzi lived was a 
great field of grass, which gradually became a deep wood. 
The trees stood straight and tall on the edge of the grassy 
plain and then gradually became thicker and thicker. Nudin 
used to creep, creep in the grass to the first tree, and then, with 
a catlike spring and a few swift scrambles would be up in it, 
flattened out along a low limb and so like it in color that Wip- 
pit, always looking for danger, would pass beneath him nor 
ever see him. 

“For a plan had come to Nudin — a daring, crazy plan, one 
which made his heart beat faster and his eyes grow big with 
fear. Who knew what Swift-Swift might be like, after all? 
No one had ever been close enough to him alive to find out. 
Of course, he knew that Swift-Swift ate grass and not flesh, 
for he could see him feeding, but — but might he not take a big 
bite of Nudin if he got a good chance? Besides, Swift-Swift 
had terribly hard feet. More than once he had seen Pad- 
Pad killed by a skilful kick. 

“ ‘But it is a race between us — and the days go by/ Nudin 
would say to himself. 

“Day after day he climbed his tree, swiftly and silently. 
All day long he lay outstretched on the long, low limb, watch- 
ing, waiting. Tied around his middle was a long cord of 
plaited skin, and in a slit in his skin garment was his smallest 
and lightest ax. 

“At last one day a pack of Swift-Swifts, feeding in the 
field, wandered slowly up to the trees. It was hot out in the 
field and the shade was grateful. Nudin looked long and curi- 
ously at the Swift-Swifts as they approached. They did not 
look dangerous. They had rather long hair and short bodies, 
and rather stocky legs which didn't look as if they could move 
so fast — but — Nudin knew. They talked softly among 


50 TELL-ME-WHY STORIES ABOUT ANIMALS 


themselves as they drifted under the trees — little, soft, nosy 
noises. There were several with little Swift-Swift children 
trotting at their heels, and one Swift-Swift, somewhat larger 
than the rest, and a lighter brown in color, who seemed to be 
a leader among them. 

“Would they come under his tree? If they did, would he 
dare to put his wonderful plan into effect? Would he succeed 
if he did dare? Almost he was sorry he had boasted to 
Nonum that he would catch Swift-Swift. No one had ever 
caught one. No one had ever heard of a tame Swift-Swift. 
Surely, if he did succeed, the head of the Council Fire would 
be his by right. Besides, they did not look terrible, these 
grass eating, slow moving, gentle eyed Swift-Swifts. And 
they were timid. Look how they ran away from every thing 
and every body. And their heads were not so very big, nor 
their mouths so very large. And they ate grass, not flesh. 
No one ever found any bones where they had been feeding. 

“The light brown Swift-Swift, crunching the grass, sidled 
nearer and nearer the tree where Nudin was concealed. All 
the muscles in Nudin’s body grew taut. His long, hairy arms 
hugged the tree branch closely. His feet were pressed against 
the trunk. Should he — dare he? On the whole, perhaps 
another day was a better day. No! Nonum might become 
leader of the Uzzi. Nudin gathered himself in a little hairy 
bunch of steely muscle. As the brown Swift-Swift came urf- 
der the tree, Nudin sprang, straight out and down, and landed, 
all asprawl, upon the back of the startled animal. With a 
shrill cry of terror, Swift-Swift bounded into the air, then, 
with his tail standing straight out and his head down, he ran 
‘ — ran as even he had never run before. And on his back, 
clinging for dear life, and not at all sure that he was really 
alive, was Nudin, his hands twined in the coarse brown hair on 



Nudin 


landed all asprawl, upon the back of the startled animal 





THE STORY OF SWIFT-SWIFT 


Si 

Swift-Swift’s neck, his feet and legs wrapped desperately 
about Swift-Swift’s body. 

“He had no time to think, scarcely had he time to feel. No 
other man of the prehistoric Stone Age had ever gone so fast 
before. If you were suddenly put on the back of a runaway 
locomotive, which left the track and flew, at sixty miles an 
hour, over the fields and the hills, jumping the streams, avoid- 
ing the trees with a skilful, sidewise spring, you might feel 
as Nudin felt! It was a terrible experience. How he wished 
he had stayed on the branch ! He didn’t care anything about 
being leader of the Uzzi! He would change places with 
Nonum in a moment, if he could. He had not known it would 
be like this. Surely this was a ghost Swift-Swift, to go so 
terribly fast. 

“But there was nothing to do but hang on tight. Nudin 
wasn’t much when it came to thinking of what would happen 
next — otherwise he would never have dared so mad a trick. 
But even he could see that if he let go Swift-Swift’s neck, he 
was very likely to get all broken to pieces. So he hung 
on, just as tight as he could. 

“Swift-Swift ran and ran and ran. Then he ran some 
more, and a little harder, if that were possible. Then he kept 
right on running. Here was a stream — whoa — up — over — 
across — with a thud and a bump — on again. There was a hill. 
Would it stop him? It never even made him falter. Here 
was some rough ground, full of boulders. Swift-Swift 
jumped them as if they had been pebbles. There were trees 
— perhaps he would stop under them, tired with his run. No 
— Swift-Swift wasn’t thinking about stopping. Nudin was 
getting tired just holding on, but Swift-Swift ran on and on 
and on, every now and then giving his squeal of terror. Packs 
of Swift-Swifts in the way scattered like wind before the 


52 TELL-ME-WHY STORIES ABOUT ANIMALS 

leaves. A panther, crawling along the wood’s edge, raised 
his yellow eyes and stared — they were gone before Nudin 
could get a good look at him ! 

“One cannot stay frightened for any length of time when 
the same old thing is happening. Nudin, convinced that he 
wasn’t going to be jolted to death or thrown off the terrorized 
Swift-Swift, began rather to enjoy hiimself, Anyway, 
whether he ever tamed Swift-Swift or not, this was an inter- 
esting adventure. Even the old men about the Council Fire 
would listen to him when he told it. No man of the Tribe 
of Uzzi had ever sat on the back of Swift-Swift before ! 

“Suddenly, Nudin felt Swift-Swift falter in his stride. 
Then he felt the animal go slower and slower. Finally he 
dropped to a walk, and then — he stopped. Nudin could feel 
his heart beating, and hear the great gasping breaths Swift- 
Swift drew. He did not understand for a moment — then he 
knew. Swift-Swift was tired out! 

“Nudin sat up. Swift-Swift but dropped his head nearer 
the ground. Nudin uncoiled the plaited cord from about his 
waist. Swift-Swift didn’t move. Nudin passed it around 
Swift-Swift’s neck and drew it tight. Then he gathered him- 
self, gave a quick spring, and landed on his feet, on the 
ground. Swift-Swift eyed him, his big eyes full of fear. 
Nudin pulled on the rope. Swift-Swift, now a very Slow- 
Slow of Slow-Slows, hesitatingly followed. Probably he 
didn’t want to, but he was too tired to resist. Nudin led him 
to a tree, tied the other end of the rope to it, sat down in the 
sun and— went peacefully to sleep. 

“That is, peacefully for him. Every time Swtift- Swift 
raised one foot and set it down again, Nudin woke up. If a 
bird cried in the air, Nudin cocked one eye at it. They slept 
that way in the Stone Age — men who slept too hard never 


THE STORY OF SWIFT-SWIFT 


53 

woke up at all. There was Fis-cash, for instance — he had 
saved his life when he slept too long, but he had a white mark 
on his leg to pay for his nap. 

“When Nudin woke up, feeling much better, his first 
thought was for Swift-Swift. And — yes, there he was, lying 
down. Nudin went up to him, very cautiously. Swift-Swift 
sprang to his feet and snorted. Nudin retreated. Then he 
came on again. Swift-Swift backed, came to the end of the 
rope, and stopped with a jerk. Nudin went forward. Swift- 
Siwift’s eyes were rolling, and he was scared to death. Nudin 
gave two steps and a run, jumped and turned in the air and 
landed on Swift-Swift’s back. Swift-Swift jumped, squealed 
and ran violently in circles until the rope was all wound ’round 
the tree, and Nudin slid off just in time to escape being mashed 
against it. It was fine fun. Nudin chased Swift-Swift the 
other way, jumped on his back as he unwound himself, and re- 
peated the performance. Then the sun set and Nudin climbed 
the tree and spent the night. Swift-Swift stayed on the 
ground, tied. In the morning Nudin first killed a bird with a 
stone, ate his breakfast, and then began his sport again. All 
day at intervals he chased Swift-Swift about the tree. At 
night he slept on a branch. For three days did Nudin do this. 
On the fourth day Swift-Swift did not run away from him 
when he approached. And Nudin, untying the rope from 
about the tree, yanked Swift-Swift’s head ’round with the rope 
and pointed it the way he wanted to go. Then he kicked with 
'his heels at Swift-Swift’s side and he started off at a dead 
run, frightened at the blow. 

“It was two days before he got back to the Council Rock, 
for he stopped often to rest and to play with Swift-Swift. 
Moreover, the long distance of that terrible first race was 
covered too fast for Nudin. He preferred to go slower, com- 


54 TELL-ME-WHY STORIES ABOUT ANIMALS 

in g back. He soon found that he could make Swift-Swift 
stop by choking him with the rope, and always a kick in the 
side started him off. So he managed to guide Swift-Swift, 
after a fashion, towards the Cave of the Tribe of Uzzi and the 
Council Fire. 

“It was dark when he got there. He tied Swift-Swift, tired 
now, and quite peaceful, in the woods nearby and crept to the 
firelight. But — what was this? There, at the head of the 
Council Fire, sat Nonum. No, not Nonum any more, for one 
of the men was speaking to him, and it was not Nonum that 
he called him. 

“ ‘Hail, Great Leader !’ said the man. ‘Great is Hol-cash, 
who tames the Swift-Swift. Behold, a gift!’ 

“Nudin saw a great piece of meat laid at Nonum’s feet. 
Then Nudin saw something else. Beside him was a young, 
a very young Swift-Swift. It was well tied with ropes, and 
it cried in terror. 

“‘So!’ thought Nudin. ‘Nonum got his Swift-Swift — a 
Swift-Swift cub. And he did not wait for the end of the 
whole moon, to be a leader. It was a race between us and he 
did not wait. We shall see what they will say to my Swift- 
Swift.’ 

“Nudin walked quietly into the firelight. 

“ ‘Hail, Nonum,’ he cried, loudly. ‘What have you there?’ 

“ ‘Hail, Nudin,’ answered Nonum. ‘My name now is Hol- 
cash, because of this Swift-Swift I have captured in a hole 
I dug. Never before has one been taken alive, as I have taken 
this great creature. Behold, I am your leader, even as we did 
agree.’ 

“ ‘Hol-cash has told us of your race,’ said Urg-get, nodding. 
‘He is chief by right of the wonder he has worked !’ 

“‘And who would be the greater, oh Urg-get?’ asked 


THE STORY OF SWIFT-SWIFT 


55 


Nudin, ‘he who captured a Swift-Swift cub, too weak to stand 
alone, and too small to be dangerous, or he who caught a full 
grown Swift-Swift and sat upon his back?’ 

“ ‘Who caught and sat upon one, Nudin/ answered Urg- 
get, ‘but that is impossible. Great is the cunning and wisdom 
of Hol-cash.’ 

“ That is not to be done !’ chorused all the Uzzi together. 
‘Great is the cunning and wisdom of Hol-cash/ 

“Nudin ran from the firelight to where he had tied his 
Swift-Swift. Quickly he untied it, quickly he jumped to its 
back and pulled on the rope. Obediently Swift-Swift started, 
turned, and walked slowly into the circle of light, rolling his 
great frightened eyes at Brother Fire near the cave. 

“You should have seen them scramble! There was no need 
for Nudin to say anything. Nonum scrambled with the rest. 
For this was awful ! To catch a Swift-Swift was bad enough. 
But to sit on him, to come into the firelight on his back, to 
make him go or stop at command — that was simply unheard 
of! They felt about it much as we should feel if Uncle 
Charlie or the Colonel rode a nice striped tiger into the sitting 
room. 

“‘Where is Nonum?’ asked Nudin. ‘He has still another 
name. It is Cub-get — he who catches little cubs and thinks he 
is a leader of the Uzzh! Behold, men of the Uzzi, I am your 
leader. For / have caught and tamed Swift-Swift — first of 
the people of the Uzzi am I to go faster than the antelope. 
Bring me food, you, and the robes — and you, Urg-get, see 
that the fire is well kept. Fis-cash — you wanted to be a 
leader. Come and hold this Swift-Swift for me, while I 
eat/ 

“There was a streak of disappearing fur clothing, which was 
Fis-cash getting a safe distance between himself and the ter- 


56 TELL-ME-WHY STORIES ABOUT ANIMALS 

rible Swift-Swift. So Nudin tied him to a stone and sat down 
to supper while men and boys waited on him, and the women 
chattered in the cave. And when he rose and offered Swift- 
Swift grass from the pile ready for the night’s bed, and they 
saw the terrible animal eat from his hand, they fell on their 
knees to Nudin. Only he wasn’t Nudin any more, but Swift- 
or-swift, which means Spirit of the Swift-Swift. 

“But Swift-or-swift is a rather cumbersome name, so by 
and by they just called him Or-swift. Then that was too 
long, so they shortened it to Orswi, and finally Orse. And in 
after years the children and the grandchildren and the great- 
great-great-great-grandchildren of Orse, called the Swift-Swift 
by his name, and Orse, or Horse, he has been ever since. For 
the Swift-Swift of the Stone Age men was the great-great- 
any-number-of-times-you-want great-grandfather of Barney, 
the horse. 

“Once the horse was wild, little son — long before he was as 
big and as beautiful as he is to-day. And while I don’t for 
truly sure know that the first of all first horses was caught 
and tamed in just this particular way, I do know he was caught 
and tamed in some way, and this was a very good way ! And 
the people of Swift-or-swift learned to catch and to ride the 
Swift-Swift, or Horse, and to make it bear their burdens and 
plow their fields — when they invented plows — and pull their 
wagons — when they invented wagons — and to carry them to 
war, when they had wars, and to run races, when they had 
time to be amused. Swift-Swift, even as Duggee, the wolf, 
found that men protected him, and kept him comfortable 
and looked after him, and became quite contented with his 
lot, and for thousands of years has shared with the dog the 
name of man’s best friend. So now you know why it was 
that you felt funny when you saw Barney’s great, frightened, 


THE STORY OF SWIFT-SWIFT 


5 7 


lovely eyes — it is because you are as much a great-great-any- 
number-of-times-you-want-great-grandchild of that Nudin 
who became Swift-or-swift as Barney is of the Swift-Swift he 
captured." 

Carlie-boy looked across the valley in the pale moonlight, 
and listened to the whispering of the wind in the pines. It 
was very still and very witchy-magicky indeed. Suddenly he 
scrooched down in his Old Pops' lap. 

“See, Old Pops," he said, “the firelight away off is gone." 

“Yes," said Old Pops, “probably the Uzzi are all asleep in- 
side their cave — and I think we had better go inside our cave 
and get Mamma to show us our pile of skins." 

“Yes," put in another voice — a kindly, friendly voice — 
“and to-morrow you can ride again on the Swift-Swift in the 
stable, and gallop and gallop just like Nudin." 

It was the Colonel, Carlie-boy's host, who owned Barney 
and who knew so well what made little boys happy. He had 
been sitting in the shadows listening to the tale, and Carlie-boy 
hadn't known it until just that minute. 

Small Son stood up very straight and tall at the thought, but 
his hand was tight in that of his Old Pops. 

“I’d — I'd like to have him gallop," he said, slowly. “Only 
— you see — you see — you see I didn’t know Barney was a 
Swift-Swift and — and — I'd 'druther you were on him too, 
with me, when he gallops !" 

And Carlie-boy never has understood to this day why the 
Colonel chose this particular time to pick him up and give him 
a big kiss right in the middle of the back of his neck ! 


The Story of the Saurus Things and How Life Came in the 
World, and of the Book Which Mother Nature Wrote, 
with the Help of the Things That Are 

C ARLIE-BOY put his book down with a bang. 

“That's a fine story!" he said. “Now, Pops, where 
is the next book I am to read ?" 

From behind a large newspaper, beneath which stretched 
two long legs, a slipper dangling from the end of one, came a 
grunt. 

“Uh-huh!" it said, plain as could be. 

“Pops!" Carlie-boy’s Voice was reproving. “I want an- 
other story book!" 

“Huh-uh !" came the grunt, again. 

“I — I think newspapers are de-test-i-bubble !" remarked 
Carlie-boy disconsolately. “They take so much 'tention when 
little boys want things." 

“Huh? Uh-huh!" 

Carlie-boy sighed a tremendous sigh. It blew the newspaper 
and there was a ghost of a grunt from behind it. Carlie-boy 
sat down, got up, walked around the room; then, choosing 
at random from the many books on the library table, opened 
one. He turned the pages idly, and looked at the pictures. 
Then, his attention caught by some odd looking words, he 
frowned, his lips forming curious syllables. 

“Pops!" he cried, a moment later, eagerly. “What's a 
i-g-u-a-n-o-d-o-n ?" 

“What?" answered Old Pops, coming out of his newspaper 
like a moon out of an eclipse. “What’s that?" 

“I said," answered Carlie-boy with much dignity, “what's an 

58 


THE SAURUS THINGS 


59 


i-g-u-a-n-o-d-o-n ? And, look here — what’s a p-t-e-r-o-d-a c- 
t-y-1 and a i-c-h-t-h-y-o-s-a-u-r-u-s and a a-r-c-h-e-o-p- 
t-e-r-y-x ?” 

“What on earth are you reading?” Old Pops wanted to 
know. 

“Why, a book !” answered Carlie-boy, surprised. Old Pops 
asks such queer questions, sometimes. “It’s all about fool- 
ish things — dragons and magic animals that never were — 
see the funny pictures!” 

“Oh!” cried Old Pops, understanding. “But that isn’t a 
book you can understand. It’s all about animals and birds and 
things that lived long, long before men came on the earth. 
There aren’t any more.” 

“Aren’t any what?” 

“Why, iguanodons and pterodactyls and ichthyosauruses and 
archeoptyrxes.” 

“Then” — and Carlie-boy was triumphant — “if there aren’t 
any more of them, how did the painter man draw these pic- 
tures ? And how did he know their names ? And how can he 
say what they did? Listen!” and Carlie-boy spelled out, 
slowly, “The oldest known bird is the a-r-c-h-e-o-p-t-e-r-y-x. 
It was of somewhat rep-ti-lian character, but could un- 
doubtedly fly. It had — ” 

“Whoa!” Old Pops was well out of his paper now, and 
wide awake. “What’s the use of your reading things you 
can’t understand?” 

“Well,” cried Carlie-boy, in self defense, “I asked you for 
another story book and all you said was ‘Uh-huh!’ So I 
picked up this one.” 

Old Pops laughed. 

“All right, son, I’ll get you a story book. What kind of a 
book do you want ?” 


6o TELL-ME-WHY STORIES ABOUT ANIMALS 


“I don't want any — now!" and Carlie-boy was very firm. 
“I want you to tell me a story. I want to know about the 
funny bird that has such a — a can’t-say-it name, and those 
other funny things I spelled. I want to know what they are 
and how you know it, and how the painter man could draw 
his picture if there aren’t any more." 

“Well, it serves me right!" and Old Pops shook his head. 
“Leaving books on archaeological explorations lying around 
loose, like that!" 

“I don’t know what arky — arky — ration books are," com- 
mented Carlie-boy, “but — there! Now I’m ready!" 

Carlie-boy laid himself carefully up and down his father 
and his father stretched out in the big chair in front of the 
fire and wiggled his slipper. Carlie-boy smiled. When Old 
Pops wiggles his slipper, Carlie-boy knows there is a story 
coming. 

“I suppose there is no help for it!" said Old Pops. “I 
shall have to tell you the Story of the Saurus Things, and How 
Life Came in the World, and of the Book Which Mother 
Nature wrote, With the Help of the Things That Are." 

“All right!" answered Carlie-boy. “It sounds dreadfully 
instering ! I didn’t know Mother Nature had written a book." 

“A book ? She’s written a whole library full. This is only 
about one of them." 

“A’ right !’’ said Carlie-boy again. “Let’s begin.’’ 

So they began. 

“A long time ago — millions of years before the first man 
walked the earth — Mother Nature gathered her family about 
her and told them what they had to do. There was Air, and 
his four sons, the Winds. There was Old Ocean, flopping and 
q’swashing around all over the place. There was Brother 
Fire in Earth and Brother Lightning in Cloud, and Old 


THE SAURUS THINGS 


61 


Father Gravity in the Middlemost Middle of the World hold- 
ing everything down, and a whole host of other Forces and 
Things That Are, too many to name. 

“Mother Nature sat on Big Rock at the edge of Old Ocean 
and held a conversation with all her family. 

“ ‘You see/ she explained, ‘Old Father Gravity has made a 
nice round ball, and all the Water is one place and all the 
Earth is another, and Air isn’t all mixed up with Big Rock, 
and Brother Lightning and Friend Heat and all, are where they 
belong. 

“ ‘But it’s a pretty cheerless place, even yet. We’ve got to 
have some living things around — what’s the use of an Old 
Ocean if he hasn’t anything to swim in him?’ 

“ ‘That’s so !’ splashed Old Ocean. ‘What is the use of me 
if I haven’t anything to swim in me?’ 

“And all the other members of the family chorused : 

“ ‘That’s so! What is the use of Old Ocean if he hasn’t 
anything to swim in him?’ 

“Only Air and Earth had anything else to say. 

“ ‘Please, Mother Nature,’ asked Air, ‘why can’t I have 
something to swim in me, too ?’ 

“And Earth rumbled and grumbled and threw up a moun- 
tain or two and toppled over a lot of perfectly good rocks 
and said: 

“ ‘I don’t see why Ocean and Air have to have all the fun — 
why can’t I have things to be on me and live on me ?’ 

“ ‘Gently, gently !’ said Mother Nature, and I can imagine 
there was a pleasant smile on her sweet old face. ‘All in good 
time. There isn’t any hurry! I think we must begin with 
Old Ocean. Earth is entirely too floppy and too fond of push- 
ing himself up into mountains and tumbling rocks around to 
have anything living on him just yet. Air’s sons are entirely 


62 TELL-ME-WHY STORIES ABOUT ANIMALS 

too vigorous for him to be quiet. Why, if I made a a 
thing to swim about in Air, it would have to be so terribly big 
and strong to fight with North Wind and East Wind that 
nothing else could live near him. I think I’ll commence with 
Old Ocean and let Earth and Air wait a while. You don’t 
really mind waiting a few million years, do you ?’ 

“Earth grumbled a little and Air whistled, as if surprised. 
But it was just as Mother Nature said — what was a few 
million years, after all? Mother Nature’s family knew then, 
just as it does now, that when she said anything, she meant 
it, and there wasn’t any use objecting, anyway. So they didn’t 
object! 

“Old Ocean had no suggestions to offer. He knew he had a 
tremendous lot of water just going to waste, and he thoroughly 
approved Old Mother Nature’s idea that she should begin with 
him. 

“So Mother Nature went to work and started with the First 
of All First Beginnings of Life — and though we don’t know 
very much about it, we do know that it began in Old Ocean. 
It was very tiny and insignificant — didn’t amount to much as 
far as its looks went. No, I couldn’t pretend to tell you what 
the First of All First Living Things looked like — little, tiny, 
bug-like things, so small you couldn’t see them, probably. But 
though these First of All Living Things were so little, they had 
wonderful powers. For at the same time Mother Nature 
made them, she made some of her remarkably beautiful Laws. 
Wise men have watched Old Mother Nature at work, and ex- 
amined the things she does, and they have found out a great 
deal about these Laws. The wise men call them by long names 
— they call them the Law of Evolution, and the Law of the 
Survival of the Fittest, and the Law of Heredity and En- 
vironment, and other hard-to-understand names like that. 


THE SAURUS THINGS 


63 


“ ‘For I can’t possibly be making a new set of Living Things 
with every change there is in Old Ocean or Earth or Air!’ 
cried Mother Nature. Tm too busy! I’ll start something, 
and make a lot of Laws and they must do part of their own 
looking after for themselves — these Living Things. So I 
make this Law — that as Old Ocean changes and as Earth 
changes and as Air changes, so shall the Living Things change 
themselves, to fit. And I make the Law that those Living 
Things which are weak and puny and which won’t change, 
shall die and make place for those which are stronger and 
better able to live in Old Ocean and Earth and Air, when they, 
too, have Living Things. And I make the Law that the 
children of Living Things shall learn from, and be like, their 
fathers and mothers.’ 

“Perhaps Earth and Air and Old Ocean didn’t hear the 
Laws — perhaps they did, and paid no attention. And again, 
perhaps they wondered. Perhaps they even asked Mother 
Nature: 

“ ‘What’s the use of a lot of Laws like that? Why don’t 
you just invent a few things to swim and fly and crawl and 
let ’em stay the way they are?’ 

“If they did, I can imagine Mother Nature shaking her wise 
old head. She knew — who knew and knows all things — 
that Earth and Air and Old Ocean were just beginning. She 
knew that the terrible stormy Ocean and the flopping, quaking 
Earth and the driving, windy Air would change and quiet 
down. She knew that Brother Fire and Friend Heat would 
grow less boisterous and that some day there would be many, 
many Living Things of many, many different kinds, and that 
way, way off in the future, millions of years ahead, would 
come Man, for whom Earth and Air and Old Ocean were 
preparing, though they didn’t know it. But I am sure she 


64 TELL-ME-WHY STORIES ABOUT ANIMALS 

wouldn’t have told Earth and Air and Old Ocean, because 
they couldn’t understand. 

“ ‘Oh, go along with you !’ she may have laughed at them. 
‘I know what I’m doing, and it’s the best way. Let’s see 
what happens with the First Living Things in Old Ocean and 
the Several Laws!’ 

“So she started the First of All First Living Things and 
made the Several Laws, and it wasn’t so very many thousands 
of thousands of years before these little tiny bits of Living 
Things had grown into various and very curious kinds of 
swimming things. They weren’t exactly fish — oh dear, no ! — 
at least, not regular, sure-enough, honest-to-goodness fish, such 
as we have to-day. They were strange, jelly-like creatures, 
without any bones — all floppy and moppy and wetty and slimy 
and generally almost as much water as they were Life. But 
Old Ocean was as pleased as pleased could be, because he had 
something different from Earth and Air. And he took care 
of the strange, wobbly-bobbly, squushy-mushy things floating 
around in his tumbling waters, and fed them and warmed them 
with warm currents from the Hot Places and chilled them 
with cold currents from the Cold Places and stirred them up 
with great lashings and smashings of himself in storms and 
waves and killed a whole lot of them and perhaps was very 
sorry; but of course Old Ocean couldn’t help it. It was the 
Law! 

“‘If they don’t grow, how can they learn?’ asked Mother 
Nature, of nothing in particular. ‘And if they don’t learn, 
what’s the use of their living at all? And if they do grow, 
and keep on growing, and don’t die or get killed, why, before 
you know it there won’t be any room for ’em — not any room 
at all !’ 

“Meanwhile, Earth was thrashing around and having an 


THE SAURUS THINGS 


65 


earthquake every few minutes, and Friend Heat and Brother 
Fire were amusing themselves bursting out of the tops of 
mountains and squirting hot rocks all over the place and Air 
was blowing and tearing around at a great rate. All these 
members of Mother Nature’s family were so new and so vigor- 
ous, they just had to have their time of exciting play before 
they settled down to any real work ! 

“But presently, seeing Ocean so happy with his funny, 
jelly-like living things, both Earth and Air became quieter, 
stopping their boisterous play to watch, curiously. And 
finally Earth couldn’t stand it any longer. Now, I can’t tell 
you just what was said, because it was ever so long ago. 
But I can close my eyes like this, and just imagine myself 
looking on a few million years ago and seeing and hearing 
Old Earth talking to his Mother Nature. 

“ ‘Mother,’ I can hear him say, T want some Living Things 
too — I want something to be on me, and live with me, and 
something to watch over and keep alive. Old Ocean’s having 
all the fun!’ 

“ ‘All right, my son !’ Mother Nature must have said. ‘All 
you have to do is to stop flying around so, and let me give 
you some trees and grass and things so you can make your- 
self attractive, and first thing you know, some of Old Ocean’s 
living things will crawl out on the land and live on you ! It is 
the Law !’ 

“Earth didn’t understand that this was Mother Nature’s way 
of doing things. So he protested. 

“ ‘I don’t want any of Old Ocean’s squizzy-squuzzy things — 
I want some of my very own.’ 

“‘Don’t you worry!’ laughed Mather Nature. ‘They’ll 
be your very own, right enough, in just a few thousand years ! 
That, too, is the Law.’ 


66 TELL-ME-WHY STORIES ABOUT ANIMALS 


“So Earth stopped most of his flopping, and kept quiet long 
enough for big trees to grow, and Friend Heat in the Air came 
and helped by bringing lots of Old Ocean in the form of 
Rain, and pretty soon Earth was a great garden — a garden 
such as no human eye has ever seen, Little Son. For the 
first trees grew to great sizes, and the grass was thick and 
long and lush like, and the air was moist and warm and the 
flowers were huge and sickly sweet, and everything was on a 
grand big scale. 

“Meanwhile, the swimming things in Old Ocean had been 
changing and changing, because that was the Law. There 
were real fish in him, now, which had grown from the funny, 
soft, jelly-like things. As Old Ocean got less stormy and less 
hot, they grew larger and stronger. Where he was very shal- 
low, there grew one kind of fish, that could eat and live most 
easily in shallow water. Where he was very deep, there grew 
other kinds, best suited to those deep places. And when 
Earth quieted down and got ready for his Living Things, 
some of Old Ocean’s Living Things came out of the water 
and flopped about on the land. The more they flopped, the 
more they liked it, and some of their fins commenced to grow 
like feet and legs to make it easier — they were just obeying the 
Law! 

“These things grew and grew on the land, and, finding the 
air good, some of them commenced to breathe it. We don’t 
know much about this fish-like thing which was the first to 
breathe, but we call it the Archegosaurus, which is a horrible 
name for a thing that looked very much like a crocodile or an 
alligator ! 

“Well, I can’t begin to tell you all about the way things 
grew, because there were so many of them growing all at once. 
There weren’t any of the animals that we know and love or 


THE SAURUS THINGS 


67 


know and fear, in these early days. The Law hadn’t been 
working long enough. They wouldn’t have been able to live 
for a minute, anyway — it was too hot and too wet and al- 
together too early a time for lions and cows and tigers and 
horses and bears and dogs and giraffes and kitty-cats and ele- 
phants and canary birds and kangaroos and pigs and all the 
familiar live things we know. Instead, there were all those 
animals which learned men have called by the funny long 
names you were asking about. There was Stegosaurus, an 
enormous lizard-like thing with two brains and neither one 
of them good for much in the thinking way. There was 
Iguanodon. He was a huge lizard with feet like a bird, as 
ugly as he could be, and didn’t care at all! There was 
Brontosaurus, with a body as big as a house and a head about 
nineteen sizes too small for him, all tail and neck. He had 
delicate little feet about the size of a dining-room table. Ich- 
thyosaurus was a swimming lizard which ate fish, and his par- 
ticular friend was Plesiosaurus, who had a perfectly lovely 
time with a long neck like a snake. He could rear his head 
up high and look far out over land or water and see if there 
was anything to eat or to fight. I mustn’t forget Dinosaur, 
who looked something like an overgrown rhinoceros with six 
horns. Oh, there were all kinds of monsters! Later still 
there was Saber-Toothed Tiger, which wise men call Machsero- 
dus, and Mastodon, which was like about six ordinary ele- 
phants rolled into one and with four huge tusks, and still later 
Mammoth, just a big elephant, and Cave Bear and Sivath- 
erium, which was the million times great-grandfather — if 
looks go for anything — of the elk and the deer of to-day. 

“But Earth wasn’t critical at all. These curious animals, 
which ate trees at a gulp and each other whenever they felt 
like it, and could — if there had been houses then — have crushed 


68 TELL-ME-WHY STORIES ABOUT ANIMALS 


a house with one blow of one foot, seem horrible to us and ter- 
rible. We shouldn’t like to see them, even in a Zoo. But they 
were dear to old Earth’s heart — he didn’t think they were 
horrible at all. He grew the trees and the grass and the roots 
which were their food, and provided places for them to live, 
and was as delighted with his strange family which grew from 
the things that crawled out of Old Ocean on his shores as if 
they were the prettiest and nicest children imaginable. 

“Air and his Four Sons blew all over Earth and Old Ocean 
and saw all that was going on. When the first Flying Fish 
gave a leap out of Old Ocean and skimmed through the air 
on his fins — my ! Wasn’t Air pleased ! 

“ ‘Now I will have things to swim in me, too !’ he told his 
Four Sons, and East Wind and North Wind, West Wind and 
Wind from the South all blew at once and echoed, ‘Now we 
will have Living Things to swim in us !’ 

“But it was not to be — yet. First were the Living Things 
in Old Ocean. Then some of them crawled out and began to 
live on the land. Then some of them commenced to breathe 
Air and become regular animals. Not until after all of this did 
some of these clumsy beasts grow strange, web-like things be- 
tween their legs, which were the First Beginnings of the 
Birds. We know about Pterodactyl, which was a most amaz- 
ing thing, half bird and half bat and three-fourths lizard with 
teeth, and about one-eighth dragon with claws — and we know 
a little about Archeopteryx, which was about as much snake as 
he was bird, but there must have been a great many other 
clumsy flying lizards and crawling birds and flying fish-like 
things before the real birds came. The Several Laws are 
very sure — but they are very slow. It has taken all of Time, 
since the very First Beginning of Life, to give us the beautiful 
birds of to-day. 



those animals which learned men have called by funny long names 


























































































































THE SAURUS THINGS 


69 


“But Air and his Four Sons didn’t know that these first 
Flying Things were not the prettiest and best that could be, 
any more than Earth thought to question the beauty of Plesio- 
saurus or Old Ocean the grace of some of his crocodile-like, 
lizardy, snaky, crawly fishes! 

“Air was so proud of the first clumsy things that flopped 
through him he didn’t know what to do. And it wasn’t so 
many thousands of years before the working of the Law 
changed these horrible creatures a great deal and made them 
more like the birds we know to-day, although the early flying 
things were giant birds bigger than ostriches.” 

“But,” interrupted Carlie-boy, giving a peculiar sort of 
wriggle which raised him into a more comfortable position 
and, at the same time, made Old Pops feel as if his Innermost 
Inners were having an earthquake, “how do you know all that ? 
The book says so, but how did the book know it ? There aren’t 
any — any of those saurus things you talked about now, are 
there?” 

“Not a single saurus thing left!” answered Old Pops. 
“Ugh: — oh — ah !” as Carlie-boy gave another inside-disturbing 
wriggle. “There aren’t any more. But there is a book which 
tells us about them — a book which is at once the biggest, the 
hardest to read, the most wonderful and the most curious in 
all the world.” 

“Where is it? Can I read it?” inquired Carlie-boy, eagerly. 

“You can read part of it, some day, if you want,” answered 
Old Pops, very gravely. “But this wonderful book is not in 
any one place. It is all over the world. And the book is the 
wonderful record which Mother Nature wrote — the book she 
made, with the help of Earth and Air and Old Ocean and 
Old Father Gravity and Friend Heat and that other Father 
of all, whom we call Father Time.” 


70 TELL-ME-WHY STORIES ABOUT ANIMALS 

“Tell me!” sighed Carlie-boy contentedly, stretching out 
along his Old Pops. 

“That’s what — I’m trying — to do — oh!” grunted Old Pops. 
“If only you wouldn’t act like Earth having a quake, or 
Brother Fire making an explosion — or, if you must quake and 
explode, if you’d kindly go do it on the couch, and not in my 
Middlemost Middle !” 

“But I like it here!” was Carlie-boy’s unanswerable argu- 
ment. “Never mind about your Middlemost Middle. Go on 
about the book Mother Nature wrote.” 

So Old Pops went on. 

“According to the Several Laws, living things grew, and 
changed, and changed and grew. The little ones grew like 
their fathers and mothers. But also, if a father or a mother 
didn’t manage to make itself comfortable with Ocean or Earth 
or Air as it found them, why, it just died and so wasn’t a 
father or a mother after all ! 

“The children of the funny, crocodile-like thing that the 
learned men call Archegosaurus, one of the first to breathe 
the Air, for instance — they were like their fathers and mothers. 
But those that breathed the air the best lived the longest and 
grew the strongest. Those that adapted themselves least well 
to Air and breathed him the least — these were the weaklings, 
and they died. Of the half snake and half bird-like things 
that flopped through Air, those that flopped the best lived the 
longest, because they could the more easily get out of the way 
of the earth crawling things that would eat them. There were 
more children of the best air floppers, then, than there were of 
the poor air floppers. So the air floppers flopped better and 
better, until they were flying very well. On Earth, the strong- 
est and the hardiest made war upon the weaker and the less 
strong — so there were more children of strong and sturdy 


THE SAURUS THINGS 


7 1 


'saurus things/ as you call them, than of the weaker ones of 
any family. So they, too, grew strong and agile, bold and 
hardy. It was the Law, working — that of all the Living 
Things, those most fit to live should live — of all the Living 
Things, those that fitted themselves best to Earth and Air and 
Water should enjoy and live in Water and Air and on Earth. 

“So it was that the Living Things were changing all the 
time. Of course, the changes were very slow, as we count 
time — thousands of years were nothing to Mother Nature. 
She had all the time there was, and there was no end to it, 
so she didn’t hurry! 

“But one day Mother Nature went looking for a certain 
form of Living Thing — for the first little fish in Old Ocean 
that had grown a shell to protect it from other fish which 
would eat it. 

“And she couldn’t find one ! 

“ 'Ocean/ said Mother Nature, 'stir up your sandy bottom 
and bring me one of those shell-fish things, will you ? I want 
to see it/ 

“ 'Cer — q’swash — 'tain — q’ swash — ly — q’swash/ answered 
Ocean, and lashed himself into a terrible boiling whirlpool, 
that reached way down to his Bottommost Bottom. 

“He fetched up a star fish and three eels, a sunfish, and a 
crab, and half a dozen deep sea lizards, and a 'saurus’ or so — 
but no shell fish thing. 

“ 'That’s odd/ said Mother Nature. ‘I particularly wanted 
to see him to-day/ 

“ 'Come to think of it, I haven’t seen any of him for sev- 
eral thousand years/ q’swashed Old Ocean. ‘I believe they’ve 
stopped growing. Now I come to look for them, I remem- 
ber— the last of them wiggled out of me and turned himself 
into a turtle — oh, a good many thousand years ago !’ 


72 


TELL-ME-WHY STORIES ABOUT ANIMALS 


“‘H’m!’ said Mother Nature, walking off. ‘Never do in 
the world. Never — never do at all!’ 

“Then Mother Nature, I imagine, went off and sat on Big 
Rock and thought about it. She couldn’t consult the animals 
or Ocean or Earth or Air, for they wouldn’t understand. 
Only Mother Nature knew that some day there would be Man 
on Earth. 

“ ‘And there are those Several Laws/ she said to herself. 
‘And by the time Man gets here and grows up enough to want 
to know about the early days of Earth and Old Ocean and 
Air, there won’t be a single one of all these nice monster 
things at all ! Not one ! I shall have to do something — that’s 
certain/ 

“So Mother Nature thought a long time, and at the end of 
all her thinking, she called a council. There was Earth, of 
course, and Air, and his Four Sons, and Old Ocean, and Big 
Rock, and Brother Fire and Friend Heat and Brother Light- 
ning in Cloud and Father Time and I don’t know what all be- 
sides. 

“Mother Nature stood up and made a speech. 

“ ‘Oh, Things That Are,’ she cried, ‘I want you to help me. 
I have helped you to your heart’s desire. To Old Ocean have 
I given the honor of being the Cradle Place of Life — and also 
the Several Laws. And behold the Swimming Things that 
live in him.’ 

“ ‘True — true !’ cried all the Things That Are. ‘She gave to 
Old Ocean the honor of being the Cradle Place of Life, and 
the Several Laws, and now behold, the Things That Swim.’ 

“ ‘To Earth I gave power to bring forth trees and grass, to 
form mountains and to have rivers and lakes. And the Swim- 
ming Things crawled from the Cradle Place of Life and grew 


THE SAURUS THINGS 73 

to be animals — many, many kinds that live upon Earth. Is it 
not so?' 

“ ‘Indeed — indeed it is !’ chorused all the Things That Are. 
‘Earth has grown himself a garden and made mountains and 
rivers and lakes and many animals live upon him/ 

“ ‘To Air I gave the first half-Air half-Earth thing — the 
first thing that flopped!’ continued Mother Nature. ‘And to 
Air and his Four Sons I gave power to protect. Now look — 
see the flying beasts and birds that live within him. Say, 
Things that Are, is it not so?’ 

“ ‘It is even as our Mother Nature says/ answered all the 
Things That Are, and Air and his Four Sons whistled and 
blew and cried : 

“ ‘It is even so. The first floppers grew to be good floppers 
and the good floppers grew to be flyers and now we have bats 
and winged reptiles, birds and flying lizards, and we are very 
proud.’ 

“ ‘I am glad you are all happy,’ answered Mother Nature. 
‘But I gave you all the Several Laws. Among the Laws was 
the Law of Change. And behold, I wanted a shell fish, and I 
find he hasn’t grown for thousands of years. He has changed, 
because it is the Law, and I can’t find anything but turtles. 
And this must not be. Thousands and thousands and thou- 
sands of years from now, who can tell what strange animals 
may grow, what wonderful birds, what beautiful fish? Just 
as the turtle is stronger and brighter and better than the little 
shell fish, so may those animals and birds and fish of the far, 
far off time be better and brighter and stronger than those of 
to-day. And if they are, those of to-day will die out, even 
as the shell fishes have died out. 

“ ‘And so, oh Things That Are, I would pack a chest ! I 


74 


TELL-ME-WHY STORIES ABOUT ANIMALS 


would keep a record of the Living Things of to-day. Deep in 
Earth I would bury it, far under the bed of Old Ocean I will 
make it. But I cannot make it alone. And so, oh Things 
That Are, have I called you together. Will you help me?’ 

“Then a great shout went up. 

“‘Of course we will help you!’ cried all the Things That 
Are. ‘We don’t know what a record is, nor why you want to 
keep it, but just tell us what to do, and we will do it!’ 

“ ‘It is not hard !’ smiled Mother Nature. ‘This is what 
you shall do. Old Ocean shall rain down from the clouds as 
he does now and make rivers. Rivers shall flow back to Old 
Ocean. And each drop that flows back shall carry a tiny, tiny 
bit of Earth with him. Air shall blow and bluster and tumble 
the mountains down — little, little, tiny, tiny bits at a time — in 
the form of dust. Old Ocean shall stir up his bottom no more 
in the deep places but shall let the dust that Air makes and the 
Earth that river brings, settle to his bottom. Whenever an 
animal or a bird or a beast dies and lies quiet on Old Ocean’s 
bottom, Old Ocean shall cover it up. Earth shall flop when 
he can and bury the bones of the animals who have lived 
and died upon him, and the birds which shall fall from Air. 
And so I shall pack my chest with the remains of the Living 
Things of to-day, and some day — some day — ’ 

“ ‘Yes ?’ asked all the Things That Are, eagerly. ‘And some 
day?’ 

“ ‘Never mind!’ smiled Mother Nature. ‘You do as I ask. 
Now, off with you to your birds and animals and fishes and 
your duties!’ 

“So all the Things That Are went off to their fishes and 
birds and animals, and Brother Fire and Friend Heat went to 
blowing up mountains and making rain, and Brother Light- 


THE SAURUS THINGS 75 

ning played at making bang-noises, and every one was as busy 
as could be. 

“ ‘You never even asked me to help !’ said a quiet, grave 
voice, and there was Father Time, smiling. 

“ ‘As if I needed to!’ answered Mother Nature. ‘You will 
be the best aid of all!’ 

“And it was as Mother Nature said. River took land 
and poured it into the sea. Air brought dust and dropped 
it into the sea and over the land. Brother Fire brought hot 
rock and poured it lavishly around the bottoms of fire moun- 
tains. Earth flopped over and buried parts of himself when- 
ever he could. All the Things That Are helped Mother Na- 
ture pack her chest — helped Mother Nature write the most 
wonderful book that we have ever read. 

“For while what they said may never have been said, Little 
Man ’o Mine, what they did is just as I have told it. And to- 
day, millions of years after, we dig down into the land where 
once Old Ocean rolled, we dig down into Earth where once 
he flopped and turned upon himself, we find hidden caves 
where Big Rock fell upon an animal of a million years ago. 
And in the rock, made of the mud of those old days, under 
the bottom of the sea that used to be and which is now dry 
land, deep in Earth where once was his top or surface, we find 
things. 

“As we dig down, we come to layer after layer of rock, or 
earth, or sand, or coal, and bedded in them find bones of ani- 
mals and birds which lived long, long ago. Sometimes we 
find more than bones. Sometimes there is a picture in the 
rock of a fish or a part of a bird or a piece of an animal. 
These are pages from Mother Nature’s Book. Old Ocean and 
Earth and Air made mud about the dead bodies of the animals 


76 TELL-ME-WHY STORIES ABOUT ANIMALS 

and birds. As year followed year and age followed age, the 
soft mud became hard and changed to rock, bearing in it the 
impression of the thing about which the mud once drifted. 
We call these rocky pictures of things of the long ago, fossils. 

“By the depth of the particular layer, or page of Mother 
Nature’s Book, men learned in reading the Book can tell about 
how long ago it was written. Of course, those things which 
we find deepest down in Earth were placed there first. Those 
which are nearer the top were placed there afterwards. So 
we know about how Life came into the world — that the first 
was in Old Ocean, that next it came on Earth, and last, into 
Air. 

“Once in a while we find a whole animal — whole complete 
mammoths have been found, frozen in icebergs in the far 
north. Sometimes it is in a cave, just discovered, that we find 
some of the pages of Mother Nature’s Book, and it is from 
these that we read much of what we know of the long, long 
ago, when Earth was young, when the Things That Are were 
new and strange and when Mother Nature first commenced to 
write the Great Book of Nature for the reading of those Men 
who had not yet been born. 

“It is a wonderful story, this story Mother Nature wrote — 
perhaps the most wonderful story there is. No man has read 
it all — no man has read any of it without much digging, 
careful thought and great knowledge. For Mother Nature 
and the Things That Are did not write an easy Book to read. 
But write a Book she did, with the help of her family, and so 
the book you were reading is a book about her Book, and the 
painter-man didn’t draw his pictures just out of his head, but 
from the fossils and the bones, the remains and the pictures, 
that Mother Nature and the Things That Are placed deep in 
Earth in the early youth of the world.” 


THE SAURUS THINGS 


77 


Old Pops stopped and stared at the fire. Carlie-boy picked 
up the book with the pictures and looked at it with a new 
respect. 

“Those ‘saurus things’ are very instering,” he observed 
softly. “Now, tell me why — ” 

“Not another ‘tell me why !’ ” cried Old Pops, firmly. 
“Look at the clock. It’s high time you went up stairs and 
pretended you were a fossil, and buried deep in many layers !” 

“Why, Pops! What kind of layers?” 

“Layers of blankets!” was Old Pops’ smiling answer. 

Carlie-boy jumped up, the idea taking his fancy. He was 
halfway up the stairs, when Old Pops again picked up the 
paper. Then Little Son paused for a minute. 

“Thank you, Old Pops !” he called softly over the stairway. 

“Huh ? Uh-huh !” came from behind the newspaper. 


The Story of the Sleepy Animals and of the Great Secret 
Whispered in Bear’s Ear and How Mother Nature 
Found a Way Around the Law 

I T was Sunday morning. 

Carlie-boy knew it was Sunday morning, because, al- 
though it was broad daylight and the little clock said eight, 
there wasn’t a sound to be heard in the house. Cook wasn’t 
getting breakfast. Mamma wasn’t dressing. Old Pops 
wasn’t splashing in the tub and all over the bathroom floor. 

Carlie-boy didn’t like to lie in bed after he woke up. As 
for turning over and going to sleep again, why, he couldn’t 
see anything in that at all. And he couldn’t understand why 
any one else did, either. 

“What’s the use of going to sleep again? There is so much 
to do!” said Carlie-boy, scornfully. 

But there wasn’t much to do Sunday morning, because 
there wasn’t any one to do it with. So, after getting up 
and stretching himself and looking at a book and playing with 
his ball and drawing a picture and counting his pennies for 
Sunday school and admiring his new necktie, he softly opened 
the door and pattered, bare- footed, down the hall. It was a 
long hall, and Carlie-boy’s feet were cold when he came to 
the end of it. 

But much he cared. Wasn’t this his Old Pops’ room? 
And wasn’t it high time Old Pops waked up? Never mind 
if it was Sunday! It was a dandy, beautiful day — a perfectly 
scrumptious, sunshiny, want-to-go-out-for-a-tramp, half-win- 
ter-half-spring day, and Old Pops ought to be up. Anyway, 
his feet were cold and Old Pops’ bed was always warm. 

78 


THE SLEEPY ANIMALS 


79 


So he opened the door, softly, slowly, and, creep-creeping 
in, stood by the side of Old Pops in his bed. It was a pleasant 
prospect. An interesting prospect, too. You never are quite 
sure just how an Old Pops is going to wake up. Sometimes 
he is slow and lazy about it, and sometimes he is quick and 
jumpy. Sometimes he is glad and sometimes he is mad. It 
depends largely on how you do it. 

It isn’t so easy to choose the way, either. There are so 
many ways of waking up sleeping Old Popses, and they are all 
so pleasant — for Carlie-boy! First, there is the Forbidden 
Way. The Forbidden Way is to take a glass of cold water 
and let it trickle, trickle, onto Old Pops’ face. But Carlie-boy 
had no intention of trying that. Old Pops hadn’t said any- 
thing the time he had tried it, but he had looked Thunder and 
Lightning! And the very next morning that scamp of an Old 
Pops had come creep-creeping into Carlie-boy’s room and had 
waked him up out of a sound, sound sleep with cold water 
trickling out of a glass, and it wasn’t nice at all ! No, the For- 
bidden- Way was out of the question. 

Then there was the Pouncing Way. In the Pouncing Way, 
you get as far across the room as you can. You brace your- 
self against the wall and give a mighty shove. You run 
across the room as hard as you can and give a jump and a 
hump and land, all in a heap, on the Middlemost Middle of the 
bed and Old Pops altogether. It is lots of fun. That is, 
if Old Pops happens to wake up not scared to death. If he is 
scared — and really you can’t blame him very much — he is a 
little apt to be cross. 

Then there is the Sneaky-Slidy Way. In the Sneaky-Slidy 
Way, you first close the window, ever so softly. Then you 
pull back the covers, oh, ever so gently! You put first one 
cold foot and then the other under the covers, and snuggle 


8o TELL-ME-WHY STORIES ABOUT ANIMALS 


down, little by little, being very, very careful not to touch 
Old Pops on his bare legs with your cold feet. When he 
finally grunts and snorts himself awake, why, there you are, 
already inside, and of course he can’t tell you to run away 
because you can’t run when you are in bed. But then, some- 
times you do touch Old Pops with a cold foot, and then there 
are ructions, right off! 

Finally, there is the Lovingest Way. This is a very nice 
way indeed. The Lovingest Way isn’t so very exciting, and 
it hasn’t the charm of suspense as to whether you are going to 
be hugged tight and pulled into bed or sent scurrying back to 
your own room after clothes, that all the other ways have. 
You are certain of a welcome with the Lovingest Way. On 
the whole, as long as this was Sunday, probably the Lovingest 
Way was best. 

So Carlie-boy tip-toed over to his Old Pops, and put two 
little brown arms abound his neck and bent over him, and 
carefully placed a kiss very softly right on his cheek. By the 
time the third kiss was safe in place, Old Pops had stretched, 
and his two long arms had closed around Carlie-boy and 
Carlie-boy was just pulled bodily into the bed and under 
the covers and it was nice and warm and comfy and — 

“Don’t you dare put those lumps of ice on me !” commanded 
Old Pops. “ What are you doing here, anyway? Now, keep 
real quiet and let me sleep !” 

Carlie-boy kept his feet to himself and lay real quiet — for 
almost a minute. 

Then he turned over. 

Then he wriggled two wriggles and wroggled a wroggle 
or so and turned back again. 

Finally he flopped three flops and a flipper and Old Pops 
grunted. 


THE SLEEPY ANIMALS 


81 


“Please, please go away!” he said. “ I want to hibernate. 
I am a bear, and sleeping all winter. I am a dormouse and 
buried for all the Time of Cold. Please — please keep still.” 

'‘You want to — what?” asked Carlie-boy. “What’s hi’nate? 
And why are you a bear? And what’s a dormouse and why is 
it buried ?” 

“Grunt — snort — grunt!” from Old Pops. 

“I said,” reminded Carlie-boy, gently, “what’s that eyenate 
word? Why does a bearmouse door? I mean — I — what do 
I mean, Old Pops?” 

Then there was a convulsion of nature, an eruption of bed 
clothes, an earthquake of Old Pops. It was Old Pops, stretch- 
ing again. Carlie-boy held on for dear life. When the 
rockings and the heavings had subsided, there was Old Pops 
with one eye half open and the other almost a quarter open, 
and Carlie-boy knew that sleep was banished. 

“Huh?” said Old Pops, as if he hadn’t heard a word. 

“I want to know why a bear is a dormouse and what heye- 
nate means,” said Carlie-boy. “You said you were a door- 
bear or something and wanted to do the other thing. This is 
a lovely time for a story.” 

“No, it is not!” Old Pops was emphatic. 

“Really, it is,” assured Carlie-boy. 

“/ don’t think so,” said Old Pops. 

“But / do, honest!” answered Carlie-boy. 

“Do you, truly?” inquired Old Pops. 

“I truly do. And I chose the Lovingest Way to wake you,” 
he bribed. 

“So you did!” cried Old Pops, with a hug and a squeeze. 
“Well, as you have broken into my hibernation, and as I am 
not really a dormouse or a bear and as it is Sunday morning — ” 

“You will tell me a story !” laughed Carlie-boy, delighted. 


82 TELL-ME-WHY STORIES ABOUT ANIMALS 


“I suppose I shall have to,” sighed Old Pops. “I will tell 
you the Story of the Sleepy Animals and of the Great Secret 
Which Was Whispered in Bear’s Ear and How Mother Nature 
Found a Way Around the Law.” 

“It sounds very — very peculiar.” 

Carlie-boy wasn’t sure whether he liked the title or not. 

“It is peculiar,” replied Old Pops. “But it is a peculiar 
story about a peculiar thing. 

“As I have told you before,” began Old Pops, “in the early 
young days of Earth, there wasn’t any Time of Cold. Friend 
Heat was still boisterous and playful, and there was a great 
deal of warmth everywhere. There was also a great deal 
of rain, and of course where there is warmth and rain and 
sunshine and no cold, everything grows very large and very 
fast. Even to-day, in the Warm Places of the Earth, far, far 
south of us in the hot countries, the trees are very large and 
the grass is very rank and the flowers very beautiful and very 
many, all the time. 

“That was a splendid age for all the animals, for every one 
of them had plenty to eat whenever they wanted it, and never 
had to think of where the next meal was coming from. 

“But things changed, and the Great Laws began to work, 
and the first of the Wonderful Blankets of Snow fell, and the 
first ice formed on River and Lake and the animals found 
out that life wasn’t just one meal after another without 
working for it. 

“I suspect they were very indignant. In fact, I am pretty 
sure they held a meeting and complained about it. 

“ ‘How on earth can I find roots and berries and honey if 
everything is covered up with the Wonderful Blanket?’ woofed 
Bear, shuffling his awkward feet over the snow and making 
great tracks in it. 


THE SLEEPY ANIMALS 


83 


“ ‘Where am I going to get any insects or any mice ?’ 
squeaked Bat, hanging comfortably, head downwards, from a 
branch and folding and unfolding his wings. ‘I couldn’t 
find a single spider for breakfast this morning, and I’m hungry 
enough to eat my feet !’ 

“Hedgehog, on the ground, uncurled the little prickly ball 
he was in — for Hedgehog is very timid, and he knows that 
when his sharp, strong spines are sticking out in all directions, 
no animal wants to grab him up for a meal. He uncurled just 
enough to let his little sharp nose stick out, and then he made 
a speech. 

“ ‘Bat can fly, and no animal wants to eat him, anyway — 
bony old skinny thing !’ he said, sharply. ‘And Bear is so big 
and so hairy and so strong and all, he isn’t afraid of much of 
anything. I can’t see that they have any complaint. But look 
at me! All I can do when anything comes after me is to 
roll up into a ball! If this white stuff is going to be all over 
everything and it’s going to be so cold, all the animals will get 
hungry and come after me. And how, I should like to know, 
am I going to get anything to eat if I have to keep rolled up 
in a ball all the time to keep from being eaten!’ 

“Bear looked around, snuffing. 

“ ‘What do you eat that’s so hard to find ?’ he growled. 

‘“Everything I eat is hard to find. Something is always 
scaring me and making me curl up into a ball !’ wailed Hedge- 
hog. ‘I eat anything I can get ! I like mice and insects and 
frogs and plants and fruit, and eggs are fine and snakes will 
do and — ’ 

“ ‘Oh, shut up!’ chattered Squirrel,- high up in a tree. ‘Why 
don’t you do as I do, lay in a supply of nuts ? Then when it 
gets cold and Wonderful Blankety and you get hungry, all you 
have to do is to go to your storehouse and get your dinner.’ 


84 TELL-ME-WHY STORIES ABOUT ANIMALS 

“ T can’t live on nuts — and will you kindly tell me how I 
am going to store up mice or snakes for winter?’ inquired 
Hedgehog, very sarcastic. ‘If I had a tail like a bush and no 
more manners than some animals, I might do anything and — ’ 

“ ‘Here, let some one else talk !’ interposed a new voice. 
It was Raccoon, or, as the Indians call him, ‘Arathcone.’ He 
was sitting on a log and he had a piece of apple in his little 
clawlike hand or handlike claw. He dipped it into a pool of 
water near the log and then proceeded to eat it. Raccoon 
seems always afraid his food is dirty so he washes it whenever 
he can. ‘I eat anything I can get, just like old Prickles, 
there,’ nodding toward Hedgehog. ‘Only I don’t have a fit 
and curl up in a ball if anything makes a noise within hearing. 
I like eggs and mice and fish and nuts, and I hate to go out in 
the daytime. And when it’s so cold and this plaguey white 
stuff is all around, it’s almost as light at night as it is in the 
daytime. And I can’t find eggs and fruit and fish and nuts 
when I want them, and I think Mother Nature ought to make 
a new Law or something, so I can.’ 

“Raccoon scrambled up in a tree and curled up in a hollow. 
Squirrel chattered and jumped around, worried to death. 

“ ‘Oh, stop your noise,’ said Raccoon. ‘I’d get your nuts in 
a minute if I could, but I am a respectable size animal and 
can’t crawl into a hole not big enough for a bug, like some 
bushy-tailed nut crackers I know about!’ 

“ ‘I want to know — ’ This was Dormouse, very timid, 
under the root of a tree. 

“ ‘What’s the reason we have to — ’ This was Marmot, 
sitting on a mound of earth and ready to dive into his hole if 
any one batted an eye at him. 

“ ‘Here, you are talking too much — let me say something,’ 


THE SLEEPY ANIMALS 85 

said a tiny little thing called Souslik. T want my berries 
and roots and — ’ 

“ ‘Woof-up — shut up — you make me sorry I’m not a 
bird!’ cried Bear, angrily. Tm not interested in what you 
eat and where you are going to get it. All you little chaps 
eat in a winter wouldn’t do me for one meal ! What I want to 
know is, hoiv I’m going to live!’ 

“ ‘If you please, Bear — can I say something?’ 

“Bear looked around to see who spoke. Yes, it was as he 
thought. Pesky little Chipmunk. Sauciest of animals, flirti- 
est of tails, speediest of hiders from an enemy. 

“ ‘Well,’ growled Bear, ‘what have you got to say?’ 

“ ‘In my home, just as in Cousin Squirrel’s, made ready 
against the Time of Cold,’ said Chipmunk, his bright eyes 
sparkling, ‘there is a pile of nuts four times as big as I am. 
There is a little pile of wheat grains, so many acorns you 
couldn’t count them in a week, a pile of buckwheat twice as 
big as the nut pile, and a lot of grass seed. When I go in 
my winter home I shall have plenty to eat. And when I am 
hungry I eat what I have gathered. Why don’t you lay in 
honey and berries and roots for the winter ? Lazy old thing !’ 

“ ‘Hrumphrh — woof — urg-g-g-g-g-gh !’ cried Bear, sham- 
bling over to where Chipmunk was sitting looking at him. 
‘Just for that I will — •’ and Bear brought his foot down hard. 

If Chipmunk had stayed there, he would have been as flat 
as Flounder-fish and not half as lively. In fact, I suspect 
he would have been a very flat Chipmunk indeed if he wasn’t 
punctured full of holes from Bear’s big claws. But Chipmunk 
didn’t have any more trouble moving out of the way of Bear’s 
paw than a little boy would have getting out of the way of 
an ox team. He just gave a flirt of his tail to the right, 


86 TELL-ME-WHY STORIES ABOUT ANIMALS 


and a flip of his four little feet to the left, and there he was, 
behind Bear. 

“ ‘That wasn’t polite of you, Bear,’ he scolded, his bright 
eyes twinkling. ‘Too lazy even to catch a little thing like 
me!’ 

“ ‘I could — oh, I could scrunch you,’ said Bear, viciously. 
‘I am not lazy. I am big and I need a lot of food. How can 
I store it up for Time of Cold? Where would I put it? 
Besides, if I stored up honey, other Bears would come and 
eat it. And besides, honey needs to be eaten when you get it — 
it’s too good to wait, and so are berries and so are roots and — ’ 

“ ‘Greedy, greedy !’ cried Chipmunk, saucily. ‘I guess you 
will have to go hungry !’ 

“ ‘It isn’t fair — oh, it isn’t fair !’ shrieked Marmot and 
Hedgehog and Badger and Dormouse and Bat and Souslik and 
Raccoon and a lot of other animals all together. ‘We don’t 
want to go hungry! We don’t want our insects covered up 
and our roots buried out of sight and our eggs taken away by 
Time of Cold! We don’t like to be hungry and — and — ’ 

“ ‘There, there !’ said a new voice, soothingly. 

“It was Mother Nature, herself, come out of the woods and 
the earth and the sky and wherever she had been keeping her- 
self, to see what all her children were quarreling about. 

“ ‘There, there,’ she repeated. ‘What’s all this about being 
hungry? Didn’t I hear some one calling for a new Law? 
What’s the trouble, anyway ?’ 

“All the animals started to tell her at once. Bear woo fed 
and grunted, Chipmunk chattered, Squirrel scolded, chuck- 
ling and chortling, Hedgehog made funny sounds, just his 
nose peeping out, Raccoon cried, and Dormouse squeaked, 
all at the same time, and it must have sounded exactly as 
if some one had a bag full of animals and was shaking it 


THE SLEEPY ANIMALS 


87 


up! You couldn’t hear Chipmunk for Squirrel, and you 
couldn’t understand Squirrel for Marmot, and Marmot’s 
voice was drowned in Bear’s woofing, and Bear was so mad 
he couldn’t growl straight, and it was a very noisy time to 
be sure. 

“But Mother Nature has a quick ear, and she understood. 
And I think she was sorry, for she has a kind heart for all 
some of her Laws seem cruel and all of them are inexorable — 
a great big word which means that they won’t yield to any 
one or anything — that no matter how hard they may seem, 
they never relent. The First of all First Laws, the very 
greatest of all the Laws, is that a Law is a Law and must 
always be obeyed. 

“But though Mother Nature knew this, she must have been 
sorry, when she finally made out what all these animals were 
trying to tell her at once, because she straightaway tried to 
find some way around the Law by which Bear and Bat and 
Marmot and Hedgehog and all the rest could get something 
to eat in Time of Cold. 

“Of course, you will want to know why she didn’t teach 
each one to store up his food in Time of Cold, just like Chip- 
munk and Squirrel do. Or, you will say, why didn’t she 
teach these animals to eat the things that can always be found 
even if it is Time of Cold? Or you may wonder why she 
didn’t teach them to go south in Time of Cold, and find a 
warmer climate, like Bird does. Perhaps you think she ought 
to have made it possible for each animal to eat moss, as Elk 
does in winter, or to catch Fish and Seal, as does Polar Bear, 
who lives all the time on the ice, or to eat other animals and 
catch birds as some of the great cats do who live in places 
where Time of Cold comes once a year. 

“But probably Mother Nature had very good reasons for 


88 TELL-ME-WHY STORIES ABOUT ANIMALS 


not doing these things. I can guess some of her reasons. For 
instance, if she tried to teach Hedgehog to catch seals, she’d 
have to make Hedgehog all over again, and then he wouldn’t 
be Hedgehog at all, but something else. And if she had to 
fix Bear so he liked to eat moss like Deer and Elk, he’d have 
to be different, too, and then, maybe he’d have horns, and a 
Bear with horns wouldn’t be a nice kind of animal at all, now 
would it? 

“Besides, there was that little matter of the Laws. A Law 
was a Law, no matter how uncomfortable it happened to be. 
And the Laws about Hedgehog said that he had to have spines 
and curl himself up into a ball if he didn’t want to get eaten 
and that his food should be mice and insects and eggs and 
plants and fruit and other things hard to get when the Won- 
derful Blanket is down and everything is cold. 

“ ‘Never mind, my dears,’ Mother Nature must have told 
the animals. ‘I’m sure I don’t want any of my children to 
starve to death. Time of Cold has to come because that is a 
Law and can’t be changed. The Wonderful Blanket has to 
be, otherwise all my Little Seeds in Earth would die and then 
there would be no grass or trees or roots and you’d all suffer 
in Warm Time. You can see I couldn’t change those Laws, 
can’t you?’ 

“ ‘I can see I shouldn’t want not to have any trees to hang 
down from,’ agreed Bat, sleepily. 

“ ‘And I shouldn’t want not to have any trees to climb,’ 
chattered Squirrel. ‘Where would I put my nuts if there 
were no trees?’ 

“ ‘Yes, and if there were no trees there wouldn’t be any 
nice hollow ones full of honey,’ woo fed Bear, thoughtfully. 

“ ‘And if there wasn’t any grass, I couldn’t make any hay 
for a nest and for food,’ cheeped Marmot. 


THE SLEEPY ANIMALS 


89 


“ There!’ cried Mother Nature. T see you are all very 
sensible children. But I am going to find some way by which 
you can keep alive in Time of Cold. I can’t alter the old 
Laws, but I’ve run into this trouble of a Law hurting as well 
as helping before, and I’ve always found a way around it, 
somehow. You just leave all this trouble about not being able 
to get things to eat in Time of Cold to me, and I’ll, see what 
I can do about it.’ 

“So Mother Nature went off and thought and thought and 
thought. Mother Nature must have loved all the animals and 
birds and living things, or she wouldn’t have been so careful 
to fix each and every one of them so that it could live if it was 
only careful enough. Of course, she let one kind eat another 
kind, because if it wasn’t for that Law, there would soon be 
too many. But she gave each animal a chance and each had 
some weapon either of defense or of attack, or some way of 
keeping alive if he only would. There was Hedgehog, for 
instance. He had been a problem, because he was so timid 
and so slow — then she had thought of Porcupine and the 
beautiful spines he had and the way he could protect himself, 
even though he walks and runs in the most awkward way you 
ever saw. Porcupine, you know, has feet that don’t work 
very well, and he has to pick each foot up and set it down 
all by itself, and Porcupine running is about the funniest as 
well as the most pitiful sight you can imagine. But much he 
cares ! Porcupine doesn’t have to run or to hurry — no animal 
except a very, very hungry one indeed is going to come within 
reach of Porcupine’s tail — which is as quick as all the rest of 
him is slow — and get stuck full of sharp, barbed spines! So 
Mother Nature had given Hedgehog spines, too, only they are 
different, and because Hedgehog hasn’t any real tail, but just a 
sort of apology for one — just a wiggly something where a 


9 o TELL-ME-WHY STORIES ABOUT ANIMALS 

respectable tail ought to be — there wasn’t any use of fitting it 
out with spines like Porcupine’s. 

“So Mother Nature gave Hedgehog that funny power of 
curling up in a ball, when he is as prickly as an overgrown 
chestnut burr, and just about as hard to pick up. Bat had 
wings and claws to hang onto limbs. Squirrel could climb 
where no animal heavier than he could follow. Chipmunk 
could skedaddle in and out of sticks and grass and rocks faster 
than anything could follow him. Dormouse could cuddle 
down into little cracks so small nothing could find him. 

“Oh, Mother Nature took good care of her children and 
gave each something from her storehouse of knowledge. 

“But this matter of eating in Time of Cold was certainly a 
problem, and Mother Nature thought about it a long time be- 
fore she solved it. What? Oh, I don’t know how long she 
thought about it — I haven’t any idea. What? Oh, well, if 
you insist, she thought about it one month, four days, eleven 
hours, nineteen minutes, forty-three seconds, two winks and 
fourteen thirty-ninths of a wink. And at the exact and pre- 
cise end of the one month, four days, eleven hours, nineteen 
minutes, forty-three seconds, two winks and not forgetting the 
fourteen thirty-ninths of a wink, Mother Nature got up and 
stretched herself and announced, 

“ T’ve found the way around the Law. I’ve found the 
Great Secret which will take care of Bear, anyway. He’s the 
biggest and the hardest to feed.’ 

“‘What is the Great Secret?’ asked West Wind, blowing 
through the trees and rustling the leaves. 

“ ‘Nothing for you, my dear !’ answered Mother Nature. 
‘It’s not a secret for any of the Sons of Air — unless, maybe, 
North Wind!’ 


THE SLEEPY ANIMALS 


9i 

“West Wind blew away with a swish and a rustle. He 
didn’t care, anyway. 

“Mother Nature went through the woods until she found 
Bear. Bear was sucking his paws. This wasn’t because he 
was so hungry, though it looked like it. Mother Nature knew 
that. Bear was sucking his paws because the heavy dead skin 
on them was bothering him. Bear, you know, walks flat 
footed. He sort of drags and shambles along, putting his big 
feet down flat. It makes his paws get very hard and the skin 
cracks and peels and he sucks them to get them comfy again. 
Mother Nature knew all this, so she didn’t pity Bear for being 
hungry. 

“ ‘But I mustn’t let him get hungry, poor thing !’ she said, 
softly. 

“She leaned over and whispered in his ear the Great Secret. 
Bear shook his shaggy head and nodded and woofed and 
scratched but I think he listened very carefully all the same. 
All the animals do listen when Mother Nature speaks — and 
you can believe they better had! Mother Nature is a kind 
and loving Mother, but she doesn’t stand any nonsense. How 
could she, with so many children of so many, many kinds, and 
each one wanting so many, many, many different things at all 
sorts of impossible hours of the day and night. No, I am 
sure Bear listened. 

“Well, Bear remembered the Great Secret. And about the 
middle of the next Warm Time, Bear commenced to act in a 
very peculiar manner indeed. He had been eating and sleep- 
ing, hunting and exercising all through the Warm Time, very 
much as he always did. He marked down the bee trees in his 
mind and visited them from time to time, fighting mightily 
with the bees that stung him on eyelids and at the end of his 


9 2 TELL-ME-WHY STORIES ABOUT ANIMALS 


tender nose, and woofing and grunting at a great rate as their 
slender little lancelike stings stabbed and smarted. But Bear 
loved honey too much to leave it just because a lot of bees got 
after him, and neither their stinging nor their buzzing made 
him stop his constant robbery of their homes. He just reached 
into their hole in the tree and raked the honey out in great 
pawfuls and gobbled it, getting all stuck up with honey and 
having a perfectly fine time licking himself afterwards — as 
good a time as little boys have when they can scrape out the 
icing dish when cook gets through making cake ! 

“Btit now, all of a sudden, Bear began to act as if he was 
hungry all the time. He hunted far and wide for more bee 
trees. He trotted through the woods after the wild berries 
that he loves. The soft and juicy roots that he likes for 
dinner were dug up in large quantities. Now and then Bear 
would catch and eat some smaller animal, for Bear does eat 
flesh though he likes roots and honey and berries and fruit 
better. He just couldn’t get enough to eat. ‘Greedy-greedy,’ 
Chipmunk had called him, and it seemed as if Chipmunk was 
right — Bear was certainly eating more than he needed. 

“Of course you can guess what happened. Bear got fat. 
First he got plump, and then he got plumper, and then he got 
large and then he got larger and then he got fat and then he 
got fatter and then he got huge and then he got huger, and he 
kept right on eating and eating and eating and getting fatter 
and fatter and fatter until he was almost as broad as he was 
long and couldn’t climb a tree to save his life and was just as 
sleek and round and comfy looking as a Bear could be. 

“And still he couldn’t get enough to eat! 

“ ‘What do you suppose is the matter with Bear ?’ asked 
Chipmunk of Cousin Squirrel, busy putting food away for 
Time of Cold. 


THE SLEEPY ANIMALS 


93 


“ ‘Don’t know, I’m sure,’ chattered Cousin Squirrel, whisk- 
ing up a tree with a nut in each cheek and speaking very 
thickly as a result. ‘The stuffy old thing tried to catch me 
this morning — as if anything as slow and lumbering could put 
his old claws on anything as quick as I am !’ 

“Cousin Squirrel gave a flirt of his beautiful tail, and stood 
upsy-down on the perfectly straight trunk of a tree, just as if 
he was glued there. Then he ran right down the tree and 
three times around it for fun, and skedaddled off in a great 
hurry for some more nuts. He knew Time of Cold was com- 
ing and he didn’t propose to go hungry. Besides, it was a sin 
to waste all those nuts! 

“Bear hardly knew himself what was the matter with him. 
He had an indistinct recollection that Mother Nature had 
whispered something in his ear, and he remembered that he 
had been worrying about Time of Cold. But then, that was 
when he was hungry. He wasn’t so hungry, now that he was 
so fat. And he was sleepy, too — funny that he should feel 
so tired all the time. 

“ ‘Must hurry up and get breakfast — oh-h-h-h-h-woof !’ 
yawned Bear, ‘so I can go back to sleep again.’ 

“So he hurried up and ate his breakfast and then, very 
slowly and in what he would have said was a very dignified 
way, but what was really a waddle, he lumbered back to the 
big hollow tree where he slept. It was a fine place, there was 
no doubt of that. There was just room to squeeze in at the 
split place, and then you jumped down to a hollow among the 
roots. And there was a whole lot of dead leaves and when 
you curled up in a sort of huge cushion of Bear fur in these 
leaves and wallowed around in them, and put your paws over 
your eyes to keep out the light, why you were as warm as 
warm and as safe as safe from being bothered. 


94 TELL-ME-WHY STORIES ABOUT ANIMALS 

“ ‘W-o-o-o-o-h-o-h-o-hoo-o-o-f !’ yawned Bear again as he 
lay down and curled up. 

“It didn’t take him long to go to sleep. It was getting 
colder outside. The sun was hidden under a sort of bright 
haze. The leaves were all gone from the trees. There were 
very few animals to be seen. The bees were all snug in their 
trees. There was a tang in the air and a bite to the North 
Wind telling of his visit to the Ice Kingdom. Perhaps there 
was a message to Bear in the cold wind — a message from Polar 
Bear, far in the north on the ice. But if there was, Bear 
didn’t pay much attention. He turned around a few times 
in his hole, snuggled down at the roots of the big tree, and 
went to sleep. 

“He slept all day and all night. In the morning he opened 
one eye. Yes, there was that confounded Wonderful Blanket. 
He had known it was coming. It had looked like it. And 
there it was — white stuff all over everything — and coming 
down in little lazy white bits of things, floating through the 
air. 

“ T don’t — think I — o-o-o-o-o-h-o-o-h-o-o- f — will go out — 
o-o-o-h — this morning — o-o-o-o-o-w-o-o-f !’ grunted Bear very 
sleepily indeed. T am not so hungry and — w-w-wo-o-o-f — 
it’s so — nice and — warm — nice — and — warm — warm — ’ 

“Bear was asleep again ! 

“Now I don’t know for sure, but I rather suspect that this 
was the time Mother Nature chose to come and look at her 
big, funny, awkward child. I can sort of half see her, creep- 
ing up to Bear’s hollow tree. I suspect she smiled and I 
know she laid her hand on Bear’s eyelids and I irtfagine she 
went away happy and quite satisfied*. 

“The next day Bear didn’t wake up at all. 

“The Wonderful Blanket floated down from the sky and 





p- 

ThoS 


o 


white stuff all over everything coming down in little, lazy white bits 







THE SLEEPY ANIMALS 


95 


covered up the ground. Bear didn’t wake up. Some of it 
drifted in and covered the leaves which Bear had spread over 
himself. Bear didn’t wake up. North wind came down full 
force from the North Pole and howled and yowled and cried 
and shrieked and shook and tore and roared about the tree. 
Bear didn’t wake up. He was snug in his warm winter coat 
of heavy fur, he was down below the ground where the wind 
couldn’t reach him. He was all covered up with a blanket of 
leaves and of snow, and nothing bothered him. Bear didn’t 
wake up. Not this day nor the next day, nor the next day — 
in fact, sleepy old Bear didn’t wake up at all during all the 
Time of Cold!” 

“Now, Pops!” cried Carlie-boy, wriggling in bed and turn- 
ing over so he could see Old Pops’ face. “You know Bear 
couldn’t have slept all winter!” 

“ Yes he could, too,” asserted Old Pops. “He could, be- 
cause he does!” 

“But how could he stay alive then? Didn’t he have to 
eat?” 

“How did Cousin Squirrel stay alive all winter ?” asked Old 
Pops. 

“Why,” cried Carlie-boy, “Cousin Squirrel laid in his sup- 
ply of dinners for Time of Cold — don’t you remember? You 
•told it yourself ! When he got hungry, all he had to do was 
to go to his pile of nuts and eat.” 

“Yes,” said Old Pops, “so he did. So I did. Well, why 
didn’t Bear do it?” 

“Why, Pops’’ cried Carlie-boy again, exasperated. “How 
could Bear lay in enough honey and roots and berries and 
things to feed his big self? Don’t you remember any of the 
story you have been telling?” 

“That’s so, how could he?” mused Old Pops. “That’s the 


96 TELL-ME-WHY STORIES ABOUT ANIMALS 

question Mother Nature had to answer. And, if you remem- 
ber, she took one month and four days and eleven hours and 
nineteen minutes and forty-three seconds and two winks and 
fourteen thirty -ninths of a wink to answer it. 

“And this was her answer — this was the first part of the 
Great Secret she whispered to Bear. 

“ 'Eat ! Eat a lot. Eat more than you can. Eat every- 
thing you can and all you can and as fast and as much and as 
long as you can. Eat as much as you want to for to-day and 
then eat for to-morrow and next day, too. Eat — eat — eat 
and get as fat, fatter, fattest as you possibly can. For the 
place for you to store your dinners for Time of Cold is under 
your skin !’ 

“Wasn’t that a funny answer? But if you will think a 
minute you will see it was a very clever answer. Bear couldn’t 
store up enough honey and enough roots and enough berries 
to last him all Time of Cold, even if he could make up his 
mind not to eat them right away. But he could store up 
enough fat to last him all winter — if he slept and kept quiet. 

“That was the other part of the Great Secret Mother Nature 
whispered to Bear — sleep and keep still. 

“Bear did what Mother Nature told him and got just as fat 
as he possibly could. Then Mother Nature laid her kind old 
hand upon his eyes, and Bear went to sleep in the roots of his 
hollow tree. Mother Nature whispered to North Wind and 
East Wind and they drifted the Wonderful Blanket in on top 
of the leaves and covered him up warm. And Bear, instead 
of waking up, just stayed quiet and asleep. 

“Now, a sleeping person or animal doesn’t need as much 
food as a waking one. You know, we eat breakfast in the 
morning, and then lunch at noon and then dinner at night 


THE SLEEPY ANIMALS 


97 

But from dinner time until the next morning we don’t eat at 
all — we just lie quiet and sleep. 

“It was the same with Bear. He didn’t want to eat while 
he slept. And because he slept very soundly, his breathing 
grew less, and less, and less, until he hardly breathed at all. 
He wasn’t hungry because he was so fat. He didn’t get thin 
very fast without eating, because he didn’t move around. He 
just stayed quietly in his hole, his eyes fast shut, and lived on 
the store of food he had laid up in the form of fat under his 
skin! 

“Yes, I know. It sounds foolish. But it isn’t. It’s true. 
No, I can’t tell you that the very words Bear said or the very 
words Mother Nature said were exactly and precisely and 
surely-truly as I have told them. I wasn’t there. I just have 
to think what they might have said, or what they ought to 
have said. But I do know that Bear does exactly as I have 
said, and that Mother Nature does touch his eyes and make 
them sleepy and that the way Mother Nature fixed it for Bear 
to live through Time of Cold is to teach him to eat himself 
fat, and then go sound asleep in a hole under a tree, or in a 
cave in the rocks, or a cleft in the earth — somewhere where 
North Wind and East Wind can’t find him. It is this strange, 
long sleep that wise men call by the long name you didn’t 
understand. Bear, in his winter sleep, is said to hibernate, 
which is the ‘eyenate’ word you were asking me about. Yes, 
I know it’s a funny word. It comes from a Latin word, and 
means 'to pass the winter in sleep.’ 

“Well, you will have to imagine Bear, snug in his tree, all 
the Time of Cold. One day was just like another to Bear. 
Whether North Wind howled, or East Wind yowled, or Sun 
shone, or the Wonderful Blanket fell — it was all the same to 


98 TELL-ME-WHY STORIES ABOUT ANIMALS 

Bear. No, I don’t know whether he dreamed or not. Prob- 
ably not. You see, he almost stopped breathing, and his 
heart almost, but not quite, stopped beating, and though he 
was warm enough not to freeze, he was much colder than ani- 
mals are when they are just sleeping ordinary, every night, 
regular, plain, wake-up-at-the-slightest-sound-sleep. It was 
more a stupor than a sleep, this long, long winter test of 
Bear’s, and I suspect that Mother Nature fixed it so' he 
wouldn’t dream dreams that might wake him up. 

“But the days of Time of Cold passed, and North Wind 
and East Wind didn’t blow so hard, and West Wind grew in 
courage and strength', and soft little, sweet little Wind from 
the South commenced to blow, and the birds began to come 
back and the Wonderful Blanket began to melt and the ice 
bound streams began to run and Beaver ate his last log dinner 
from the mud under his home — in other words, Time of Cold 
was going and Warm Time was coming. And with it all 
something stirred in Bear, and perhaps Mother Nature came 
and called him — anyway, one fine morning, Bear woke up. 

“He had quite a time getting his eyes open, and he was very 
stupid at first, but he was awake. And he was hungry. My 
gracious goodness me but Bea.r was hungry ! He didn’t know 
when he’d had anything to eat. And there wasn’t a thing to 
eat in his hole. And his paws — what was the matter with 
his paws? He sucked them, and got all the dead skin off, 
and my, they were tender ! Then Bear made a great effort and 
struggled out of the hole in the ground under the hollow tree. 
And he was a sight, to be sure. His fur was all matted and 
tangled and there were dead leaves in it and all over his face, 
and his feet were sore and tender, and he was as thin as thin 
could be and as cross as— well, as cross as a Bear! But 
he had gotten through Time of Cold — that was the main 


THE SLEEPY ANIMALS 


99 


thing. He had stored up his winter food under his skin, and 
now it was all gone and — biff! went a very tender paw and 
there was a rabbit for breakfast, anyway. And there were 
lots of green things to be had, and new roots, and probably 
honey and maybe berries — yes, Bear was cross, but it was a 
pretty good world after all, and I suspect that when he had 
a square meal, and when his paws toughened up a little, and 
he had a bath, and got some of the leaves out of his coat and 
straightened it out he felt a lot better ! 

“Well, you can better believe that all the animals who had 
wondered how they were going to get through Time of Cold 
were interested. 

“Bear told them all about the Great Secret — Bat, hanging 
head down from a tree, and Hedgehog, all curled up in a 
ball with just his nose peeking out, and Dormouse, in a crack, 
and Raccoon, sitting on a log, just as they had been be- 
fore. 

“ 'How did you get through Time of Cold?’ asked Raccoon. 
'You look as if you hadn’t had enough to eat.’ 

“ 'Slept through it !’ woofed Bear, shortly. 'Only sensible 
way/ 

“ ‘What?’ cried all of them together, making a noise like a 
machine that squeaks and yelps and cries and groans and 
cheeps and howls, all at once. 

“ 'I said/ responded Bear, very dignified, 'I slept through 
Time of Cold. Only sensible way. I invented it. I just ate 
enough to make me fat and then I went to sleep in a hole 
under a tree, and stayed there. If some of you small fry 
had as much sense, you’d do the same thing.’ 

“Mother Nature must have smiled at Bear saying he had 
invented the Great Secret, especially when she remembered 
the one month and the four days and the eleven hours and the 


100 4 TELL-ME-WHY STORIES ABOUT ANIMALS 

nineteen minutes and the forty-three seconds and the two 
winks and especially the fourteen thirty-ninths of a wink that 
it had taken her to think it up herself. But Mother Nature 
didn’t care what Bear said, and besides, he probably believed 
it. 

“Bear wandered away and left all the animals he had been 
talking to, wondering. Chipmunk, fat as a butter ball with 
all his winter store eaten up, was as frisky as frisky. Cousin 
Squirrel was chattering and scurrying around, talking to Mrs. 
Squirrel and a lot of little Squirrels. Bat shut his eyes and 
hung on in the shade of the tree, waiting for it to get decently 
dark. 

“ ‘Now I wonder,’ said Hedgehog, who had had a very 
hard time indeed that winter, 'if that isn’t a good scheme?’ 

“And indeed, all these animals began to wonder if it wasn’t 
a good scheme. And the further they went into Warm Time, 
the more they thought about Time of Cold. And — helped, I 
have no doubt, with cunning hints from Mother Nature — they 
each of them, without saying anything about it, made up their 
minds to try it for themselves when the next Time of Cold 
came around. 

“Bat selected a nice cave in the rocks. It was dark, and 
there was a fine piece of rock sticking out from the top in 
just the right place for him to hang himself comfortably up- 
side down. Hedgehog burrowed down in the ground in the 
roots of a tree and covered himself all over with leaves until 
you wouldn’t know he was anywhere near. Dormouse found 
a pile of grass under some bushes and some stones made a 
little cave under the grass, and he disappeared. Badger curled 
up in a burrow, Marmot did the same thing. Raccoon found 
himself a hole — Woodchuck, Gopher, Souslik, Tenrec, Jer- 
boas (funny little things like tiny kangaroos with fanlike 


THE SLEEPY ANIMALS 


IOI 


ears and a face like a mouse) yes, and Snake and Lizard and 
Tortoise and Frog and Toad — each hunted out the kind of 
a hole in the ground, hollow in a tree, or cave in the mud he 
liked best, all bent on trying Bear’s way of passing the winter. 
Marmot was especially active in getting fat, and Hedgehog in 
finding a secure place to sleep, for Marmot is grfeedy and 
Hedgehog is timid. But each and every one of these animals 
and half animals, and snaky-crawly- jumpy things, decided to 
try Bear’s way. 

“Even Mrs. Polar Bear, up on the ice near the North Pole, 
went to sleep in a hole under the ice, or under great masses 
of snow. She breathed just a little — and that little melted a 
tiny hole in the Wonderful Blanket so enough air came in to 
let her breathe. Several Insects crawled into cracks in the 
trees and ground and went to sleep all Time of Cold. 

“Mother Nature watched over them as they got ready to try 
the Great Secret, and she did some very wonderful things for 
the animals when she watched. 

“We don’t know very much about this wonderful sleep — 
this strange, deep sleep that is almost like being dead and yet 
that isn’t being dead — this sleep so deep and heavy that Bat, 
for instance, can be taken from his perch and dipped in water 
and left there many minutes without drowning him, and then 
taken out and hung back on his perch and he won’t wake up 
at all ! But we do know a little about it, and all that little we 
know but gives us a greater admiration for old Mother Nature. 
For what do you think she has done for the sleepy animals? 
She has given them an alarm clock ! Yes, a truly alarm clock ! 
I don’t know what it’s like — it’s something inside them. But 
if any sleepy animal is careless about his Time of Cold sleep- 
ing place, or if North Wind tears it down, and he begins to 
get so cold that he will freeze, why he wakes up, and goes, 


102 TELL-ME-WHY STORIES ABOUT ANIMALS 


cross as cross can be, to hunt something to eat and another 
hole. 

“And Bear — Mother Nature taught Bear, and now he is 
so clever that he won’t go to sleep for Time of Cold until he is 
plenty fat enough. And if, for any reason, he can’t get 
enough to eat to make him fat enough, to feed himself from 
himself all Time of Cold, Bear won’t try it, but just stays 
awake, eating what he can get, cross as cross can be because 
he is sleepy, but too wise to disobey his Mother Nature and 
go to sleep before he is ready for it. 

“What? Oh, the other animals? Well, Deer and Elk had 
moss, and Fox and Wolf had Rabbit, and Lynx, if he was 
desperately hungry, could try his luck with Porcupine, and 
then the animals that live only where it’s warm all the time — 
Lion and Tiger and Giraffe and Elephant and all those circus 
animals — why, they didn’t have any need of sleeping through 
Time of Cold. It is only certain animals, whose food gets 
very scarce in Time of Cold, which have to go to sleep for so 
long a time.’* 

“Is that the end of the story?” Carlie-boy wanted to know, 
as Old Pops stopped talking. 

“Almost,” answered Pops. “There is just a wee bit more.” 

“That’s good,” wriggled Carlie-boy. “Tell it.” 

“Mother Nature watched all her sleepy animal children go to 
bed,” went on Old Pops, “and then she went around and tucked 
them up! She tucked some up with leaves and some with 
Wonderful Blanket and some with mud and some with grass 
and some — like Bat — she just saw were nice and comfortable 
in deep and warm caves, hanging, perfectly happy, head down. 

“ ‘Yes,’ Mother Nature must have told herself — or maybe 
she talked to boisterous North Wind, swooping down and 
swirling and whirling the Wonderful Blanket and laying it 


THE SLEEPY ANIMALS 


103 


where Mother Nature told him to — ‘yes, that Great Secret was 
a fine idea. I knew there was some way to get around that 
Law, even if I did take one month and four days and eleven 
hours and nineteen minutes and forty-three seconds and two 
winks and fourteen thirty-ninths of a wink to think it out !’ 

“ ‘Whew-w-w-w-w-w-wish !’ agreed North Wind. ‘Clever 
Mother Nature!’ 

“Mother Nature was clever and the Great Secret was a fine 
idea, because it stood the test. It worked ! 

“All these sleepy animals I have told you about really sleep 
in the winter, just like Bear. Some of them get up once in a 
while. and go and get something to eat; some of them only 
sleep if it is very, very , very cold and very, very , very hard 
to find food. But most of them sleep most of the Time of 
Cold through, and all of those I have told you about sleep the 
wonderful sleep some time. 

“And when they get up, in the spring, they are thin and 
hungry, but they are alive, and that’s the main thing, and there 
is a beautiful world just waiting for them, and plenty to eat 
again, and the sun is shining and Cousin Squirrel is frisking 
about as if to show that it is time to get up, and the birds keep 
coming and keep coming from the far south, and one day they 
see Loon come to rest on the water and hear his mournful cry, 
and hear Beaver working again upon his dam, and then they 
all know that Warm Time is really here, and that sleep time 
is over, that Mother Nature is around and working and that 
all is well.” 

Carlie-boy lay still. It was warm and nice in Old Pops’ 
bed. Old Pops was warm, too. It was lots of fun, lying 
there so cuddly-comfy and having “instering” stories told 
about the sleepy animals. Perhaps, if he asked very gently 
indeed, he could get another one. 


104 TELL-ME-WHY STORIES ABOUT ANIMALS 

“Pops,” he said softly, “tell me why — ” 

“Ding — dong — dang — dongle — dingle” went the breakfast 
chimes down stairs. 

There was a white streak which was Carlie-boy sent flying 
out of bed. There was another which was Old Pops strug- 
gling into a dressing gown. 

“Hibernation is over!” cried Old Pops. “It's spring time 
and the Big Bear and the Little Bear have to get up. Bet I 
beat you to the bee tree !” 

“The bee tree ? I don’t understand — ” began Carlie-boy. 

“The breakfast table! Cakes — and honey on them. I 
couldn’t want them any more if I were really a Bear!” 

“You aren’t a bit like a Bear!” Carlie-boy assured his Old 
Pops, earnestly. 

“No? How is that?” asked Old Pops, grabbing a big towel 
and shivering at the very thought of the cold water. 

“When Bears wake up from their long sleep, they are 
cross!” said Carlie-boy, very earnestly, and it took him all the 
time he was dressing to know why Old Pops, when he grabbed 
him and kissed him, said, 

“Thank you, Small Son!” 


The Story of the Painted Horse, of Lemming, Stoat and Com- 
pany, and Their Change of Clothes, and of the 
Strange, Strange Gift Mother Nature 
Gave to Certain Bug-Eaters 

44 A H-H-H-H-A-A-A-A-H !" sighed Carlie-boy. 

ii It was a contented sigh. He was out of breath 
telling Mamma all about the circus, and the couch was very 
restful after so much strenuous excitement. Mamma turned 
to her paper. 

“And oh, Mamma !” he began all over again. “There was 
the funniest horse you ever saw ! Somebody had painted it in 
stripes all black and white, and it was littler’n a regular horse, 
and had a thick neck, and the circus man said it was the only 
one in the world that could do tricks. It couldn't do much, 
either, but it was funny looking." 

“Yes," said Mamma, “and what was it called?" 

“I — think Old Pops said it was a seeper or something — 
and — oh, Mamma! Old Pops said he would tell me about it 
when we got home! Where is he?" 

“Old Pops is lying down, I think and — here! Where are 
you going?" 

“Going to get him, of course !" cried Carlie-boy, getting up 
and starting upstairs. 

“My dear little boy!" warned Mamma. “Don’t you think 
as long as Old Pops took you to the circus, you might let him 
rest now?" 

“But, Mamma!" explained Carlie-boy, patiently. “Don’t 
you understand ? Old Pops said he was going to tell me about 

105 


io6 TELL-ME-WHY STORIES ABOUT ANIMALS 


the painted horse when he got home. And how can I know 
things if some one doesn’t tell me and I know there is a story 
about that striped seeper thing and — there he is now ! Pops ! 
Didn’t you say you were going to tell me a story about the 
painted horse with the black and white stripes just as soon as 
we got home ?” 

“Did I?” asked Old Pops, coming down the stairs, his old 
slippers going flip-flop, clop-clop as he walked. 

“Why, don’t you remember? The seeper thing, you know.” 

“I believe I do have a sort of clouded and indistinct recol- 
lection, a faint and elusive remembrance that you asked me 
a question about it and that I sort of half way suggested that 
perhaps some time in the wide and far horizon of the dim and 
distant future I might perhaps be persuaded to explain, shortly 
and succinctly, how he happened to be the recipient of such re- 
markable mural decorations,” answered Old Pops. 

Of course, only about one word in every four meant any- 
thing. But Carlie-boy didn’t mind that. He knew that Old 
Popses like to use big words that don’t mean anything special 
just for the fun of twisting their tongues. 

“Never mind that,” he said, brushing aside all that Old 
Pops had said as if he hadn’t said it. “What I’m talking 
about is the painted horse. Why is he painted, and who 
painted him, and what was he painted for, and why is he the 
only one that can do tricks and why can’t he do good tricks and 
where did he come from and who brought him to the circus 
and—” 

“Mercy!” cried Mamma. “Did Old Pops say he was go- 
ing to tell you a story or write a book?” 

“Huh?” grunted Carlie-boy, scornfully. “Why, Mamma! 
That isn’t much of a question, is it, Pops?” 

“Certainly not !” replied Old Pops. “That is a very modest, 


THE PAINTED HORSE 107 

meaty, small, and altogether compact question compared to 
most of those you ask.” 

“There !” said Carlie-boy, triumphantly. “Well, who did — 
what did — how did — ” 

“Never mind !” said Old Pops. “I heard you, the first time. 
I see I have got to tell a story. But I can’t tell you about 
Zebra and his stripes without telling you about Polar Bear and 
his new coat, and Lemming, Stoat and Company and their 
change of clothes, and two bug eaters and their scandalous 
tricks and several other animals and their extra gifts too.” 

“That’s good !” cried Carlie-boy. “The more there are the 
better I like it. Mamma, can’t Pops have the big chair and 
you take your little one?” 

“Certainly!” answered Mamma, getting up, and spilling a 
handkerchief and her paper and a darning ball and a spool of 
thread and a pair of scissors as she did it. “But what are you 
going to sit in?” 

“I’m going to sit in Old Pops,” announced Small Son, pick- 
ing up the things Mamma had dropped before suiting action 
to word and crawling into his Old Pops’ lap. “Now, then, 
please begin !” 

So Old Pops, sighing once and wiggling his right slipper 
until it was just comfortably dangling on one toe, began. 
It was a most peculiar beginning, indeed. 

“Mamma,” said Old Pops, “have you any white cotton 
gloves ?” 

“Yes, I think so,” answered Mamma, busy with her darning, 

“And have you any black cotton gloves ?” 

“Why — why? I don’t know. I may have.” 

“What are you talking about?” demanded Carlie-boy. “Is 
that part of the story?” 

“It’s the preface to the story!” smiled Old Pops. “To- 


io8 TELL-ME-WHY STORIES ABOUT ANIMALS 


morrow Mamma will lend you a white glove and a black 
glove. You will put one on each hand and go stand in the 
sunlight and hold your two hands out so the sunlight strikes 
the backs of them. And then — ” 

“And then?” prompted Carlie-boy. 

“And then you will see that one hand feels warmer than the 
other hand. The hand in the black glove will feel warmer 
than the hand in the white glove. And then you will remem- 
ber what I am going to tell you about some of the clothes 
Mother Nature made for her children. 

“Now,” went on Old Pops, “for the real beginning. I have 
told you enough stories about Earth and Mother Nature and 
her great family of animals and birds and fishes and snakes 
and bugs for you to know that there are a great, great many 
kinds of living things. You know that Earth is a great big 
place. It has high mountains and low mountains and middle- 
sized mountains and big rivers and little rivers and middle- 
sized rivers and big lakes and little lakes and middle-sized 
lakes, not to mention the ponds and mud puddles, and big 
oceans and smaller oceans. It has tall trees and short trees 
and stumpy trees and bushes of all sizes. It has hot places 
and cold places and places midway between. It has a Time of 
Cold and a Warm Time, and there is Rain and Wonderful 
Blanket and Air and his four sons and Brother Lightning and 
Friend Heat and Father Gravity and all sorts of Laws. 

“So, of course, there have to be lots and lots and LOTS of 
different kinds of children to live in the different kinds of coun- 
tries in the different kinds of weather and upon the different 
kinds of food. 

“There are great big Brothers in Mother Nature’s family, 
like Rhinoceros and Whale, and little tiny Brothers, like 
Mouse and Chipmunk and Frog and Minnow. There are im- 


THE PAINTED HORSE 


109 


mensely tall animals, like Giraffe and immensely short ones 
like Dachshund and Ermine. There are big fat animals, like 
Bear, and long, slim animals, like Weasel. There are prickly 
animals, like Porcupine and Hedgehog, and smooth-as-smooth 
animals, like Seal and Badger. There are fierce animals, like 
Tiger, and gentle animals, like Pussy-Purry-Kitty-Cat, and 
clever animals, like Dog, and stupid ones, like Sheep. There 
are some animals with weapons, like Lion, who has terrible 
claws, and others with enormous strength, like Elephant, and 
there are still others with no weapons and no strength at all, 
like Dormouse. There are animals that you can hardly kill 
with a bullet, unless you hit them in the eye, like Grizzly Bear, 
and there are animals that you can hardly touch without hurt- 
ing them, like Lizard (who isn't an animal at all, but a reptile, 
a cousin of Snake's) whose tail comes off if you catch hold of 
it! Oh, there are all kinds of animals! More, many more, 
than any one man has ever seen, and lots, lots more than either 
you or I have ever heard of! 

“But there isn't a single, solitary animal that Mother Nature 
forgot when she gave to each of her mighty family some 
gift. When the Law of Struggle was made, Mother Nature 
made each animal and bird and fish and reptile and bug a 
present. What? Why, she couldn’t give 'em all the same 
thing! What use would Dormouse have for Tiger's claws? 
What do you think Pussy-Purry-Kitty-Cat would do with an 
Elephant's trunk? How would Weasel get along if he had 
spines like Hedgehog, and what would Monkey do if he had 
legs like Giraffe? You can see Mother Nature had to give 
each animal something different from the other animals. At 
least, she divided her great family up into little families and 
gave each family some special gift, and the little families in the 
big family divided the gift so that each has its portion accord- 


no TELL-ME-WHY STORIES ABOUT ANIMALS 


ing to its need. Tiger and Pussy-Purry-Kitty-Cat both belong 
to the same family, but Tiger has much bigger claws, much 
greater strength and a much fiercer heart than our little pet, 
but Pussy-Purry-Kitty-Cat has enough to enable her to live 
and climb trees and get away from Dog and with which to 
catch Mouse and Rat. 

“Mother Nature invented a thousand different gifts for her 
children. Some of them are very beautiful, and some of them 
are very strange, and some are very queer, and some are very, 
very, very beautiful-strange-and-queer altogether. 

“One day after the Wonderful Blanket had been invented, 
and Time of Cold had come down from the north, Mother 
Nature went up in the Very Cold Places, where North Wind 
is born and blows all the time and very little is to be seen ex- 
cept snow, and great mountains of ice and lots of cold water. 
And as soon as she got there, Bear came shambling and run- 
ning up to her. This was before Bear had been taught to go 
to sleep in Time of Cold. Bear was thin and anxious look- 
ing and although his dark fur was thick and heavy, he was 
cold and he was so hungry ! 

“‘What’s the matter with you?’ asked Mother Nature. 
‘Are you lazy or what?’ 

“ ‘Indeed, indeed I an> not lazy !’ protested Bear, woofing 
around and making great footprints in the snow. ‘I came up 
here to the Cold Place and I haven’t had a decent meal since ! 
Nothing to eat but Seal and Fox and Hare and that funny 
little Lemming that I can’t catch, and anyway, I can’t get 
enough to eat because I can’t get hold of any of those things, 
and I can’t get warm.’ 

“ ‘Why not?’ asked Mother Nature, cheerily. ‘You are big 
enough and strong enough to catch anything, I should think, 
and you certainly have enough fur.’ 


THE PAINTED HORSE 


hi 


“ T know it/ wailed Bear. ‘But I can’t. Just watch me.’ 

“So Mother Nature watched, and Bear went off to try to 
catch Seal. There were a lot of him on the ice, plain as plain 
could be, his dark fur showing distinctly against the white 
snow. But long before Bear could get up to where he was, 
Seal saw him coming, and each single one, with a flip-flip-flip 
of his flippery flippers and a flop-flop-flop of his floppery tail, 
slid right off the ice into the water and turned around and 
laughed a great seal laugh. 

“ ‘You see,’ said Bear, coming back, his head down, ashamed. 
‘I can’t catch ’em.’ 

“ ‘Certainly not!’ agreed Mother Nature. ‘You can’t catch 
’em because they see you coming. But that is easily fixed. 
I can’t have you starving to death for a little thing like that !’ 

“So Mother Nature followed Bear back to his cave in the 
ice and she stroked his fur with her kind old hands, and did 
something to him outside, and lo and behold, Bear turned 
white ! His fur got the color of snow. No, it didn’t happen 
in a moment, and you mustn’t think that it was magic. I 
don’t know, because I wasn’t there, just how Mother Nature 
worked it, but I do know she did it, because Bear that lives in 
the Cold Places, which we now call Polar Bear, is white. And 
being white was the one thing Polar Bear needed. Now, 
living up there as he does, on’ the ice and snow, when he is a 
little way off and keeping still, you might look right at him 
and not see him, because he is just the color of the Wonderful 
Blanket and it’s hard to tell where the ice leaves off and Polar 
Bear begins. When Polar Bear is hungry for Seal, now, he 
just goes off quietly and sneaks down to where he is lying 
on the ice and, before Seal sees him as Bear and not just as 
part of the snowy, blowy, icy-wicy landscape, why, there he 
is, with a breakfast already to eat ! 


1 12 TELL-ME-WHY STORIES ABOUT ANIMALS 


“And now to tell you of how very, very, very clever dear old 
Mother Nature is. She must have planned it from the very 
beginning. One. of her very first Laws had to do with Friend 
Heat and the colors of things. She made dark things so that 
Friend Heat can get into and get out of them quicker than 
white things ! White fur keeps heat in an animal better than 
dark fur! So Polar Bear, in his white coat, is not only in- 
visible against the snow, but his snowy colored winter overcoat 
helps keep him warm !” 

“The white and black gloves ?” Carlie-boy was too lazy 
and comfy to ask a whole question. 

“Exactly !” assented Old Pops. “You will, find the hand in 
the black glove warmest because Friend Heat in sunlight can 
get through it easiest. People who live in the hot places 
always wear white clothes. Even here, in summer, many men 
and almost all ladies dress mostly in white, because white 
clothes are cooler than black because they keep the heat out. 
Yes, I know — you think white fur would keep heat out. But 
there isn’t much of Friend Heat in sunlight in the Cold Places 
and so the white fur is good to keep Bear’s own heat in ! 

“Mother Nature watched Polar Bear as he caught his meal, 
satisfied. Then she called North Wind to her and, jumping on 
his back, she was whisked back to the warmer places where 
there were other animals and trees and things needing her 
very much. 

“Hare was the first to come and greet her, because Hare 
can run like anything — swift as swift can be, his strong little 
hind legs just flirting and flipping and his equally strong little 
front legs just digging and pulling him along. 

“ ‘Oh, Mother Nature,’ he said. ‘I nearly got caught the 
other day. Fox came after me and I didn’t see him, and if I 
hadn’t jumped sidewise and up and around all at once and then 


THE PAINTED HORSE 


ii3 

skedaddled like anything, I should have been inside Fox this 
minute. And I have been chased by a lot of different things 
that come creep-creeping up on me, when I didn’t see them, and 
the soft little pad-pads on their feet don’t make any noise 
and so I don’t hear them and — and — ’ 

“ ‘Please, please,’ said the funniest little voice you ever heard 
— a voice that I think only Mother Nature could hear, for the 
lizard that we call Chameleon doesn’t make any sound like 
many other living things do. 

“ ‘Please, please,’ it said again. ‘I am so hungry — please, 
please.’ 

“‘Croak — creek — hrumph — oak-oak!’ coughed Tree Frog. 
‘I am hungry too — I am always hungry. Bugs are scarce and 
they see me coming and I can’t catch ’em and — ’ 

“‘Here, wait a minute!’ cried Mother Nature. ‘Cammy, 
haven’t you got a perfectly good tongue to catch flies and 
bugs with?’ 

“Chameleon opened his mouth and showed his tongue. It 
is a wonderful tongue, too. It shoots out of his mouth like a 
spring, and catches a bug and — snap! Like that it’s back in 
his mouth again, quick as a flash. Chameleon is supposed to 
climb trees and eat Bug very much as Tree Frog is, and this 
wonderful long tongue, that darts out like a spring and yanks 
back again as if made of rubber is his way of getting some- 
thing to eat. 

“ ‘Well, now, I can’t see why that doesn’t get you plenty 
to eat,’ said Mother Nature, ‘and — ’ 

“ ‘Mother Nature, please let me speak.’ 

“This was Weasel. You have heard, perhaps, the saying, 
‘As hard as catching a weasel asleep.’ Well, Weasel is a beau- 
tiful, long, slender little animal, as quick as a flash, as brave 
as a lion and as clever as he is quick. He has an arched body 


1 1 4 TELL-ME-WHY STORIES ABOUT ANIMALS 


just made for winding and sliding around corners, and a long 
sturdy neck that slides right into his body, so you can’t tell 
where one stops and the other starts. He can swim and climb 
and his stout little heart knows no fear. Weasel is a mighty 
fighter for his size, and Mamma Weasel loves her children so 
much that she will fight until she is dead before she will let 
anything happen to them — although W easel is by no means the 
only one of Mother Nature’s children who will do that.” 

“Are we Mother Nature’s children, too?” asked Carlie-boy, 
interrupting. 

“Of course!” 

“Would you fight for me that way, Mamma?” asked Carlie- 
boy curiously, looking at pretty, gentle Mamma in the chair, 
so afraid of Mouse that even Mouse probably laughs. 

Mamma looked up at Carlie-boy. She didn’t answer in 
words, but just smiled at him. And something inside Carlie- 
boy turned over and made him feel queer, like going down in 
an elevator. 

“Wait a minute,” he said to Old Pops. 

Then he got soberly up from his Old Pops’ Middlemost Mid- 
dle, knocking the dangling slipper off as he did so. He went 
over to Mamma, and gave her a sounding big kiss. Then, 
picking up the slipper as he came back, and dangling it very 
carefully on just the right toe, he climbed back into Old Pops’ 
long suffering lap. 

“All right,” he said. “ ’Scuse me for interrupting.” 

“ T eat Mice and Rats and Water Rats and Moles and 
Frogs,’ said Weasel (and here Tree Frog cuddled down, very 
small indeed, into a knot hole). T am quick as a flash and I 
am not complaining. But Mice and Rats are hard to catch 
and they see me, sometimes, when I’m coming, and I’ve got 
Mrs. Weasel and. five little Weasels to look after and I wish 


THE PAINTED HORSE 


“S 

you’d cut off a few of their legs so I could catch ’em easier 
and — ” 

" 'Don’t talk so much. Give your betters a chance.’ 

"Ermine, or Stoat, as he is sometimes called, who belongs to 
the same family as Weasel, had something to say. 

"Hare cuddled up close to Mother Nature. Ermine catches 
him sometimes and he wasn’t taking any chances. 

" T live in thickets,’ he said, 'and I like stony places. I 
sleep in the burrows other animals have made. I am very 
swift and very brave and I have no complaint to make ex- 
cept — it’s so hard to catch things when Wonderful Blanket is 
down! If you would only change my clothes, Mother Nature, 
and give me a white coat in winter — oh, run, run, every one !’ 

"And every one did run, too! You can’t imagine why? 
Because there came Skunk, and Skunk is one of the animals 
to which Mother Nature has given a queer present. Skunk 
is afraid of nothing. It isn’t because he is big or brave or 
strong or dangerous that other animals are afraid of him. 
No, indeed. It is because Skunk can make all the other 
animals hate themselves ! When Skunk is attacked or 
frightened, he squirts out a few drops of a liquid that smells 
— well, it smells very, very bad ! And when it drops on any- 
thing it — ’ 

"My beloved Old Pops !’’ interrupted Mamma. "Can’t you 
talk of something pleasant?” 

"My beloved Mamma !” answered Old Pops. "Allow me to 
remind you that I am not Mother Nature and that I didn’t 
make Skunk! Also Skunk is a most beautiful animal, and his 
fur is lovely, and his queer perfume is what protects him from 
being killed !” 

Mamma said nothing. Carlie-boy looked at Old Pops, 
eagerly. 


1 16 TELL-ME-WHY STORIES ABOUT ANIMALS 


“What’s it smell like?” he wanted to know. 

“How can I tell you ?” answered Old Pops. “It smells like 
it smells, exactly and precisely! And other animals hate it, 
hate it, hate it, and when Skunk came wandering along, they 
all skedaddled away. 

“ T don’t like that,’ scolded Hare. ‘He was too close.’ 

“ ‘I don’t like it either,’ cried Skunk. ‘I almost had to 
protect myself, and I don’t like to all the time.’ 

“ ‘Why didn’t you say you were coming, then ?’ chattered 
Squirrel up in the tree. ‘Nasty old thing !’ 

“ ‘I don’t know — why didn’t I?’ asked Skunk of his Mother 
Nature. ‘Should' I ?’ 

“‘I think it would be a fine idea if you did,’ she assured 
him. ‘Listen, Skunk. If animals think you can do some- 
thing to them, they won’t wait for you to do it. You don’t 
have to have Bear bite you in half to know he can do it, do 
you? Certainly not. Well, if you will just let the animals 
know you are coming, they will keep out of your way and not 
bother you.’ 

“‘But how can I do it?’ asked Skunk, curiously. ‘You 
didn’t give me much of a noise maker out of the voice chest, 
that time you gave us all some way of making sounds.’ 

“ ‘So I didn’t! Well — ’ and Mother Nature thought for a 
moment or two. ‘There !’ 

“She reached over and touched Skunk. And behold, he had 
a beautiful white tail that wasn’t there before, and that he 
carries very high up in the air like a signal flag. What? Oh, 
in the story, right then and there. Really, truly, black-and- 
bluely, honest-sure-to-goodness-me, I couldn’t tell you how 
long it took Mother Nature to give Skunk a big, white, beauti- 
ful flag-like tail. But she did do it, for Skunk has it, and he 
does carry it up high like a flag and it is a warning to other 


THE PAINTED HORSE 


ii 7 

animals. And so they see Skunk coming and get out of his 
way, and that suits Skunk, and it suits them, too, because if 
Skunk isn’t frightened, he won’t let out that dreadful, dreadful 
smell ! 

“Waving his new white tail, Skunk passed on. And then 
the other animals that were talking with their Mother crept 
back. I suspect they held their noses if they could — if they 
couldn’t, they just snorted about it and made the best of it. 

“ ‘You were saying?’ asked Mother Nature, politely, of 
Ermine. 

“ T was saying I wanted a change of clothes,’ said Ermine, 
‘and just then that — that smelly beast came along and — ’ 

“ ‘And you all ran away!’ laughed Mother Nature. ‘Well, 
that’s why I made him that way, so you would. 

“ ‘Let me see,’ she went on. ‘There was Polar Bear — 
hungry and cold. I gave him a white coat and now he’s all 
right. Now, here is Weasel, not satisfied, and Ermine, his big 
cousin, wants a change of clothes, and Cammy, there, says he’s 
hungry, and Hare wants me to make a new Law or something 
to tie Fox up, and some one else wants me to do something else 
and — ’ 

“ ‘And don’t forget me,’ croaked Tree Frog. 

“ ‘And Tree Frog mustn’t be forgotten,’ kept on Mother 
Nature. ‘Seems to be a regular delegation of animals and 
things wanting things!’ 

“ ‘All I want is some bugs to eat,’ said Cammy, in the funny 
little voice that only Mother Nature can hear. 

“ ‘Don’t you want to be fixed so it would be hard to eat 
you?’ asked Mother Nature, slyly. 

“‘Of course!’ answered Chameleon. ‘What’s the use of 
eating bugs if you are going to be eater t yourself the next 
minute ? I didn’t think I had to explain that !’ 


1 18 TELL-ME-WHY STORIES ABOUT ANIMALS 


“Chameleon darted up on a rock, and whisky-whisk, like 
that, his funny little spring-like tongue darted out and darted 
in again. You could hardly see it, it moved so fast. Then he 
waved his long slim tail and scuttled around and wiggled his 
tongue and I dare say said plenty of very emphatic things in 
Chameleon language, because the perfectly good bug that he 
had thought he was going to eat had given a spring into the 
air and sailed off on buzzing wings just about sixty-four 
ninety-fifths of an inch ahead of that sword-like tongue. 

“As soon as Cammy could speak — that is, as soon as he could 
speak without choking with rage and saying things his Mother 
Nature wouldn’t permit him to say, no, not for a moment — he 
did speak. 

“'You see?’ he said. 'That buzzy-bug saw me first. By 
Green Lichen on the Rock and also Brown Bark on the Tree, if 
this thing goes on much longer, no one will want to eat me! 
I won’t be anything but a shadow !’ 

“ 'Well!’ and Mother Nature spread her kind old hands out 
wide and I dare say looked very lovingly and sweetly at her 
hungry children. 

“As she beckoned, they all drew near, nearer, nearest, 
until they were close, close to her. It was a funny little circle 
— Tree Frog and Chameleon, Hare and Ermine, Weasel and 
a funny little animal you never saw, called Lemming. What ? 
Oh, Lemming is a sort of half way distant cousin of Mouse, 
twice removed, and won’t admit the relationship at all. Why ? 
Why, because Mouse is very, very timid, and Lemming is so 
brave he is foolish ! He is a little animal, and looks something 
like a large mouse, with a very short tail. He is yellow brown 
with dark spots. He makes a funny little Lemming home out 
of grass and lines it with hair and he eats roots and grass and 
moss. He is a determined little fighter and once he makes up 



u 


You see?” 


he said, “that buzzy-bug saw me first !” 






THE PAINTED HORSE 119 

his mind to do something he goes straight for it, no matter 
whether he gets killed doing it or not — which is why I said 
Lemming was so brave he was foolish! In two of the Far 
Countries of the world, called Norway and Sweden, even to- 
day Lemming sometimes shows how very brave and how very 
foolish he is. Once in a while a great army of Lemmings 
will decide it wants to live somewhere else than where it is. 
So it starts, the whole great army, and runs over the land. 
When it comes to a lake or river, it swims it. When Bear 
and Wolf and Fox and Dog and Wild Cat and Stoat and 
Weasel and Eagle and Hawk and Owl chase this army, gob- 
bling up Lemmings by the dozen, it never makes the rest of 
them stop. On and on and on goes the Lemming army, hun- 
dreds and hundreds and hundreds of them, until, finally, it 
reaches the sea. And here is where Lemming shows that he 
is brave to foolishness, for the army plunges right into the 
ocean and tries to swim it, and of course can’t, and gets en- 
tirely and completely drowned, and all. the animals that have 
been chasing it are disappointed because so much good Lem- 
ming breakfast has gone to waste. But the Lemmings that are 
left behind in their homes when the army moves off are happy, 
for now there is plenty of room and food for all. 

“Well, here was Lemming joining the circle, and you can 
be sure he came up behind Mother Nature and kept a sharp, 
bright eye out on Stoat and Weasel, although Mother Nature 
wouldn’t let any harm come to him while she was laying down 
the Law. 

“‘Listen/ said Mother Nature, and Tree Frog and Chame- 
leon, Hare and Ermine, Weasel and — of course — Lemming, 
listened. ‘When I gave each animal a gift at the time the Law 
of Struggle was made, I gave him the very best gift I had.’ 

“ ‘I got a tongue,’ said Cammy. 


120 TELL-ME-WHY STORIES ABOUT ANIMALS 


“ T got a pair of climbing and jumping legs/ agreed Tree 
Frog. 

“ T got courage and speed and sense/ cried Weasel. 

“ ‘You didn’t get it all — I got some too,” put in Stoat. 

“ ‘I got a timid heart that is my best protection, and speed, 
speed, speed/ whispered Hare, ‘not to mention my long ears !’ 

“ ‘I got paws that dig and a heart that knows no fear and 
lots of sense/ squeaked Lemming from behind Mother Nature, 
in which he flattered himself, I think, for I don’t call any 
animal that tries to swim the ocean sensible, do you?” 

“Should say not !” agreed Carlie-boy. “And where is 
Seeper all this time?” 

“Never you mind!” cried Old Pops. “I’m coming to him!” 

“A’ right!” said Carlie-boy. “ ’Scuse me for interrupting!” 

Old Pops nodded and went on. 

“ ‘Yes/ agreed Mother Nature, ‘you all got something nice. 
But things change. The earth gets colder and warmer in 
places. Trees grow differently from what they did. Bugs 
learn to be wary. Your enemies have learned to be clever in 
finding you, and your food is clever in avoiding you. Now 
listen carefully/ 

“All the little audience drew nearer yet. 

“ ‘I didn’t give you all the gifts I have/ smiled Mother Na- 
ture, triumphantly. ‘I have something more to give you.’ 

“ ‘To give me?’ asked Cammy, whisking his tail. 

“ ‘Me too?’ cried Tree Frog, croaking in delight. 

“ ‘And me — and me — and me — and don’t forget me/ 
squeaked and cried Ermine and Hare and Weasel and Lem- 
ming, altogether. 

“ ‘Yes, to give each one of you. I will begin with Hare. 
Hare, I am going to give you a new suit of clothes. Come 
here/ 


THE PAINTED HORSE 


121 


“Hare came, and Mother Nature reached out her hand and 
stroked him. And as she did so, something happened to his 
fur, and it all changed to a deep, dark, warm brown, a sort of 
earthy-clayey-dirt-colored brown. 

“ ‘What will this gift do?’ asked Hare, very doubtful. He 
had hoped for a set of claws like Lion. 

“ ‘Hop out on the dirt a little way,’ encouraged Mother 
Nature. 

“Hare hopped out on the dirt a little way and sat quiet. 
Mother Nature didn’t say anything. 

Then, 

“‘Where’s the thing gone?’ asked Weasel, curiously. ‘Is 
there a hole out there?’ 

“ ‘That is funny,’ agreed Stoat. ‘You Hare, where are 
you ?’ 

“Hare said nothing. He didn’t understand. But Mother 
Nature understood, and Hare has learned since. Hare’s 
brown, earthy-clayey-dirt-colored coat just exactly matches the 
color of the earth on which he so often sits. When he sits 
down, very quiet, on a clump of earth, he just fades into it 
and you can’t see him at all ! 

“ ‘Now, you Ermine,’ said Mother Nature. ‘I’m going to 
give you a white coat for Time of Cold. But so that your 
children and your friends can know you are you and not a 
clump of snow, I’m going to put one black spot on it. Where 
would you like it?’ 

“ ‘On the tip-tip-tipmost-tippery end of my tail !’ cried Er- 
mine. 

“ ‘That is a very good place!’ agreed Mother Nature. 

“So she fixed Ermine so he had a white coat in Time of 
Cold, with just the one black spot on it. And because he was 
so clever about telling where the spot was to be, Mother Nature 


1 22 TELL-ME-WHY STORIES ABOUT ANIMALS 


made the white coat very soft and fine, and to-day there is no 
fur that we like better for trimming dresses or making muffs 
than real Ermine fur. Wherever you see real Ermine, you 
will see white fur with a black spot here and there, which is 
the tip-tip-tipmost-tippery end of his tail! 

“What was there clever about it? Why, don’t you see? 
On the snow, when Ermine goes sneaking and sliding and 
crawling towards something he wants to eat, he looks just like 
snow. The black spot on the tip-tip-tipmost-tippery end of his 
tail is pointed away from what he is crawling towards, and they 
can’t see it. But if he and all his family are running away 
from an enemy, they can see the black spots on the tip-tip- 
tipmost-tippery ends of each other’s tails and not lose them in 
the whiteness of the Wonderful Blanket. Mother Nature 
thought that was such a clever idea that she called little brown 
Rabbit to her, who is always getting lost from her family, and 
stuck a white tail on her, too, so her children could follow her 
home even in the browny, shadowy bushes. And then she was 
so pleased that she hunted up a lot of Deer, that are always 
skedaddling away from their enemies, and gave them white fur 
around their tails, so they could always recognize the Deer in 
front when they were running away in the dim half light and 
not get lost from the rest of the family! 

“But then she did something even cleverer. 

“Weasel spoke up. 

“ T want a coat like Hare’s,’ he said. ‘He doesn’t know 
what he’s got.’ 

“But Mother Nature knew. 

“ ‘All right,’ she said, ‘only it will be different.’ 

“And when she passed her hands over him and he looked 
around at himself, behold he was red brown on top and yellow 
whitish underneath. 


THE PAINTED HORSE 


123 


“ ‘But — but — they will see the white part/ he said, troubled. 

“ ‘Go climb a limb in the moonlight/ said Mother Nature, 
‘and see!’ 

“So Weasel climbed a limb in the moonlight, and the bright 
moonlight on the top of his coat and the dark-deep-black 
shadow underneath on the yellow-white part matched the limb 
exactly and precisely until you couldn’t tell which was tree and 
which was Weasel, and he was perfectly delighted, and has 
been a terror to all small birds in their nests ever since because 
they have such a hard time seeing which is Weasel and 
which is limb! 

“ ‘Me/ squeaked Lemming, coming out from under Mother 
Nature’s skirts now Weasel and Stoat were gone. 

“ ‘Yes/ said Mother Nature, ‘I haven’t forgotten you, either. 
You get a white coat in Time of Cold and keep your yellow- 
brown-black one in Warm Time. You do it by growing white 
hairs through the dark hairs when Time of Cold comes around. 
But you only do it when you go to live in those parts of the 
country which are very Wonderful Blankety indeed. And you 
must always remember this, for it’s part of the new Gift,’ said 
Mother Nature, very earnestly. ‘You mustn’t think that be- 
cause Wonderful Blanket is to protect seeds and moss and 
growing things in the ground from Time of Cold and North 
Wind and East Wind, that you can’t find them when Won- 
derful Blanket is down. You have cunning little digging 
paws, and a stout heart. When Wonderful Blanket is down 
and you turn white so Fox and Bear and Wolf can’t see you, 
you still must eat. So I say to you — dig — dig — dig! Dig a 
hole in Wonderful Blanket and give a flirt with your hind feet 
and disappear, and then make long, long tunnels under Won- 
derful Blanket and find your moss and roots and keep warm 
with the seeds, and you will be as safe as safe as safe can 


124 TELL-ME-WHY STORIES ABOUT ANIMALS 

be — unless you are foolish and make a hump in the snow/ 

“ ‘And if I make a hump in the snow?' asked Lemming, his 
beady eyes twinkling. 

“ ‘Then I suspect Bear and Fox and Wolf will be apt to 
know where you are and come and dig you out!’ laughed 
Mother Nature, and it is even so. ‘And don’t forget — ’ 

“ ‘Don’t forget me!’ croaked Tree Frog. 

“ ‘And don’t forget me, either — I am still very hungry,’ in- 
terrupted Chameleon. 

“‘What?’ cried Mother Nature, as if amazed. ‘Are you 
hungry again?’ 

“ ‘No,’ said Cammy, truthfully enough. ‘Hungry yet !’ 

“ ‘Well,’ laughed Mother Nature, ‘you sha’n’t be hungry 
long. I have a gift for both of you. It is the same gift, but 
I am going to give Chameleon most of it — now, now, never 
mind!’ to Tree Frog, who croaked in disappointment. ‘You 
will get all you need. And this is the most peculiar gift I 
have ever given any animal — not that you two are regular 
animals, but you are just as much my children as if you were 
instead of being reptiles. And this is the gift.’ 

“Mother Nature whispered to both of them, for it would 
never do to have other animals and bugs and birds learn how this 
thing Mother Nature was telling about was to be done. I fancy 
both Tree Frog and Chameleon were amazed beyond power to 
speak, for it was a strange, strange secret which Mother Na- 
ture told them. And for a moment afterwards they sat quite 
still. Then, with a hurrying hurry and a jumping jump, Tree 
Frog got up in green tree, and with a scuttling scuttle and a 
wriggling wriggle, Chameleon climbed on to a greenish-gray 
rock. And if you had been there, you would have been 
amazed to see them both disappear. For what do you think 
had happened? You don’t know — of course you don’t know! 


THE PAINTED HORSE 


125 


This was what happened! The minute Tree Frog got in the 
tree, he tried the secret Mother Nature had whispered, and 
turned green! And you couldn’t tell him from a green leaf 
to save your life! And the minute Chameleon had crawled 
onto the rock, he tried the secret Mother Nature had whispered 
to him and became greenish-grayish, like the rock. And you 
couldn’t see him, either, to save your life. And a couple of 
bugs came along and one of them sat right down by Tree Frog, 
thinking he was a leaf and — gulp — good-by, bug! And an- 
other came and sat down on the greenish-grayish rock and 
never saw Cammy at all, and — whisky-whisk, dart, and Cammy 
didn’t feet so hungry as he had ! 

“Tree Frog jumped down to the ground. But still you 
couldn’t see him ! The minute he got on the ground he turned 
brown, like the ground, and there was another bug, and he 
also went for Tree Frog’s breakfast. Chameleon crawled off 
into the grass and turned grass green. When night came, he 
turned himself into straw color like moonlight on sand. When 
he was in deep shadow, he turned himself dull, brownish 
black. When he was on earth and stones that were speckled, 
grayish color, why, nothing was easier than to turn himself 
speckled grayish ! 

“That was the secret Mother Nature whispered to these 
little members of her family — how to turn themselves to be 
the color of the thing on which they sat. Tree Frog turns 
green or brown as he may be in green Tree or on brown 
Earth. Chameleon turns himself all sorts of colors because 
he is sometimes in Tree and sometimes on Earth and some- 
times on Rocks and sometimes in Grass. And because he can 
change so beautifully and so rapidly, we have come to use his 
name to mean things that change quickly, and dike a chame- 
leon’ means just that — to be able to change in a hurry.” 


126 TELL-ME-WHY STORIES ABOUT ANIMALS 


“Are you like a chameleon when you change your clothes to 
go swimming?” asked Carlie-boy. 

“Exactly !” said Mamma, smiling. “Only I think he does it 
quicker than a chameleon. But Old Pops isn’t like a 
chameleon when he changes his night clothes for his day 
clothes.” 

“What is he like then?” asked Carlie-boy, curiously. 

“A sloth !” answered Mamma, laughing at Old Pops. 

“The slowest animal there is!” cried Old Pops. “Mamma, 
I am properly ashamed !” 

“But the seeper thing!” interjected Carlie-boy, anxious to 
get the story going again. 

“To be sure — the seeper thing!” cried Old Pops. “Well, 
the ‘seeper thing’ is properly called Zebra. As you saw at the 
circus, Zebra is a wild horse, somewhat smaller than other 
horses and crossed and striped and banded in the most curious 
way with black and white stripes. These stripes are one of the 
most beautiful examples of Mother Nature’s cleverness. 
Mother Nature was so pleased with the change of clothes 
she gave to Polar Bear and Lemming and Stoat and the 
strange things she had done for Tree Frog and Chameleon, 
that she went down in the Warm Places to see what she could 
do for the animals there. And, lo and behold, there was 
Zebra, complaining because he was too easily seen on the great 
plains where he lived and that he had to run away all the 
time from Tiger and Lion and other big beasts who wanted 
to eat him. 

“‘Suppose I make you black?’ Mother Nature asked. ‘I 
am going to make Panther black and then nothing can see him 
at night.’ 

“ ‘If you did that, how could Mrs. Zebra and little Carlie- 
boy Zebra, here, follow me if I ran away?’ asked Mr. Zebra.” 


THE PAINTED HORSE 


127 

'Tops! You know he didn’t say Carlie-boy Zebra!” pro- 
tested Small Son. 

"Well, maybe he didn’t. It doesn’t matter.” 

"I think it does,” interrupted Carlie-boy. 

"All right,” agreed Old Pops. "Just as you say. I guess 
he said little Zeebie Zebra !” 

"That’s much better,” said Small Son. " ’Scuse me for in- 
terrupting !” 

" 'Well,’ agreed Mother Nature, 'maybe that’s so. I — I 
shall — I shall have — I shall have to — I shall have to mark — 
I shall have to mark you — I shall have to mark you up!’ 

"And she ran to Zebra and drew her fingers up and down 
his sides, tickling him under the ribs and making him jump 
and snort. And wherever she touched him were the black 
stripes on a white ground. 

" 'Oh, Mother Nature !’ cried Zebra. 'Now you have done 
it. Anything can see me now, a long, long way off !’ 

" 'Foolish child!’ cried Mother Nature. 'Do you think you 
know more than your Mother Nature? Where is Mrs. 
Zebra ?’ 

"Zebra turned and looked. 

" 'They were — they were right over there,’ he said, doubt- 
fully. 

" 'They are still there — Mrs. Zebra and little Zeebie-Zebra. 
But the white stripes and the gray stripes at a distance are a 
gray, a moonlightish-browny-yellowish-groundish gray, and 
you can’t see them at all, any more than you can see Tiger in 
his black and yellow stripes crouching among the reeds in the 
sunlight.’ 

"For a moment Zebra didn’t understand. Then, with a 
wild snort and neigh of regular horsy-Zebra joy, he darted off 
to find Mrs. Zebra and little Zeebie Zebra. And when he was 


128 TELL-ME-WHY STORIES ABOUT ANIMALS 


close to them they were plain as plain could be, and neither 
Mrs. Zebra nor little Zeebie Zebra has any difficulty in seeing 
Old Pops Zebra when he leads the way in headlong flight from 
danger. But because his easily seen stripes blend, at a little 
distance, so beautifully with the landscape, just as Tiger’s 
great stripes and Leopard’s spots blend so with the reeds and 
the sunlight and the spotty lights of the deep jungle, no one 
can see Zebra from a distance.” 

“And now,” said Carlie-boy, “tell me why Zebra couldn’t 
do much tricks.” 

“Just because Mother Nature gave him a wild heart and a 
distrust of all living things,” answered Old Pops. “Though 
related to Horse, he didn’t get Horse’s brains, nor Horse’s 
great and loving heart, when Mother Nature gave her gifts. 
He was meant for the wild places, where the great plains are, 
to run in, and where his stripes fit into the landscape so you 
can’t tell t’other from which — in the same way, though an en- 
tirely different way, that Weasel and Tree Frog and Cha- 
meleon and a lot of other animals and birds and bugs fit in 
with their landscapes. We call it ‘protective-coloring,’ — the 
colors which protect the animals from harm. But to Mother 
Nature it was just an extra gift she gave to certain animals 
who weren’t getting along as well as they might, as the Earth 
slowly changed. No, I can’t tell you any more — my slipper 
has dropped off, which is a sure sign the story is over. Yes, 
it’s all true as far as the things themselves go — I am not quite 
certain about the conversation, but the things themselves are 
surely, honest true.” 

“Will you tell me why — ” 

“Because you are going to have a bath and go to bed !” in- 
terrupted Mamma, “and — ” 


THE PAINTED HORSE 


129 

“Mamma,” interposed Carlie-boy, “can I have the white 
nighty instead of the striped one?” 

“Why yes, I guess so — why ?” asked Mamma, curiously. 

Carlie-boy pulled his mother's face down and whispered 
excitedly. 

“I can play I am a Lemming !” he cried. “I shall swim the 
bath tub and that will be the ocean. Only I sha’n’t get 
drowned. And then I will grow the white fur, and that will 
be the white nighty, and when I get in the white bed — don’t 
you see? That will be the Wonderful Blanket. And Old 
Pops can be Bear and when he comes up stairs to say good 
night he won’t be able to find me in my white nighty in the 
Wonderful Blankety white bed, ’cause it will be ’tective color- 
ing, and you can be Mother Nature!” 

And it was exactly so ! 


The Story of the Foster Baby King Cat with the Varnished 
Tail Who Knew the Dog Taught Grip 

“T)OPS,” announced Carlie-boy, “I want you to tell me 

Ji a story. I just want a story. Not a story with an 
answer-to-a-question in it. Just a plain story.” 

“ ‘A plain, unvarnished tale’?” inquired Old Pops, saying 
one of those foolish things which grown people do say, some- 
times, for no reason in the world, as far as Carlie-boy can see, 
except that they know a lot of big words and want to use 
them. 

“I don’t know what that is!” said Carlie-boy, doubtfully. 
“I don’t see what varnish has to do with it. Who ever heard 
of a tail being varnished, anyway?” 

“That’s so !” agreed Old Pops, cordially, hoping he was go- 
ing to escape. “Who ever did?” 

“But that doesn’t matter anything!” went on Carlie-boy. 
“I’d just as leave have a story about a varnished tail as any- 
thing else. So you will please tell me a story about a cat and 
a dog with varnished tails.” 

“Heavens and earth and waters under the earth, and all the 
fishes in the water!” exclaimed Old Pops. (This doesn’t 
mean anything, either. Old Pops is just full of words that 
don’t mean anything. He always has to get just so many of 
them out of his head before he tells a story.) “A cat and dog 
story with varnished tails! Oh, why did I mention varnish?” 

“Why, I don’t know — why did you?” answered Carlie-boy, 
helpfully. “Don’t you zvant to tell a story about varnished 
tails? I’d just as soon have varnished paws, honest!” 

130 


THE FOSTER BABY KING CAT 13 1 

“Never mind!” said Old Pops. Pie had gotten rid of all 
the foolish words now. “I will tell you a story of varnished 
tails — at least, there is a varnished tail in it. But most of the 
story is about a dog who loved a cat and a cat who was a 
king, and the grip the dog taught the cat, and how the cat — 
but here, I mustn’t tell the story upside down.” 

“It must be a very funny story !” cried Carl, wriggling onto 
the arm of the Morris chair so he could slide down gently and 
by degrees as the story progressed and Old Pops got inter- 
ested. 

“It is not funny at all!” reproved Old Pops. “That var- 
nished tail is very sad indeed, because it finally dropped off, 
and — there I go again. But I warn you, this is not a funny 
story !” 

“Never mind, so it’s a story!” cried Carlie-boy, winding both 
arms tightly about his father’s head and nuzzling down into 
his collar, right where the hair leaves off and the neck begins. 
Every one knows this is a most beautiful place to have a small 
boy when you want to tell a story ! 

“Well !” began Old Pops. “Once upon a time there was a 
little boy. Never mind his name. Yes, he had a name, but it 
doesn’t matter because the story isn’t about him. The little 
boy was very fond of animals. He had a fox terrier, called 
Dixie — a very pretty and very clever fox terrier. The fox 
terrier had several little fox terrier puppies, and she was most 
’straordinarily and ’ticularly fond of them. So was the little 
boy. 

“One day the little boy was out walking, and he picked up a 
little, tiny, half starved kitten, and put it in his pocket. He 
was a very tender-hearted little boy, and the kitten was a very 
pathetic looking kitten, indeed. 

“When he came home, his Mamma wanted him to give the 


132 TELL-ME-WHY STORIES ABOUT ANIMALS 

little kitten away or put it out on the street or get rid of it 
some way. 

“ 'But it is lonely and it’s hungry and — and I want it !’ 
said the little boy, turning out his under lip and looking very 
pathetic indeed. 

"So the Mamma of the little boy said he could keep the half 
starved little kitten until the next day, anyway. 

" 'But I don’t know what Dixie will say to it,’ observed the 
Mamma. ‘She may eat him up !’ 

“ 'She shan’t do anything of the kind. Dixie doesn’t eat 
little kittens !’ protested the little boy. 

"To prove it, he rolled the little kitten in a blanket and took 
it down cellar where Dixie was feeding her puppies. 

"Dixie jumped to her feet, upsetting all her puppies at once, 
who scrambled to their little legs which wouldn’t hold them up, 
and looked exceedingly indignant. One doesn’t like one’s 
dinner interrupted for a measly little half starved kitten, of 
course ! 

"Dixie smelled the kitten gingerly, as if he were something 
new to eat. Then, getting nearer each time, she slowly walked 
all around him. A very gentle paw, which slowly turned the 
kitten over, brought forth a protest. 

" 'Meauw !’ said the kitten. 

"Dixie was very much interested. Finally she sat down and 
looked at the little •animal, one ear drooping, one cocked in- 
quiringly in the air, and evidently very much puzzled as to 
what this small, funny little thing was supposed to be. 

"But now the kitten took a hand in the game. Dixie’s 
disturbing paw had started his lungs, and missing the warmth 
of his own mother, or perhaps feeling hungry, he continued to 
cry pitifully, with a wail out of all proportion to his size. 
Dixie began to get uneasy. She got up, walked around the 


THE FOSTER BABY KING CAT 


133 


kitten, sniffed at him again, looking up at the little boy and 
whining eagerly. Then, all at once, Dixie seemed to know 
what was needed. She lay down and proceeded to feed the 
poor, hungry, motherless little cat after the manner of cats 
and dogs from the beginning of time. Those pathetic, 
mother-wanting cries had been too much for the mother in 
Dixie ! 

“So the kitten was adopted by the dog. The little boy 
named him Rex, which means king. He grew and thrived, 
with the puppies, and played with them and loved them, fought 
with them and learned with them, and doubtless never knew 
that other kittens had a different kind of mother and led differ- 
ent kinds of lives. 

“Rex was trained by Dixie as carefully as she trained her 
own children, and was. loved more than any of them. He 
learned to tell by the smell, as a dog does, how long it had been 
since a foot print fell. He was taught to know the scent of all 
the people in the house. He learned all terrier tricks of rat 
and mouse catching. He was equally quick with his jaws and 
teeth, which are what a dog uses, or with his velvet-shod, 
steel-clawed paws, after the manner of cats. He learned to 
play as a terrier plays, and also to fight as a terrier fights. 
Dixie taught him to turn on his back when hard pushed, 
and Rex practised until he could insert a strong hind-leg under 
a triumphant puppy who had bowled him over and sat on him, 
and send the surprised doggy flying with one sturdy push. He 
learned also the habit of burying food, and how to find it 
again. There is no end to the things he learned, and his cat 
instinct and dog training, together with his size and strength, 
made him the pet of the house and the pride of the little 
boy’s heart. 

“His kittenhood was all pleasure. He ate and played and 


i 3 4 TELL-ME-WHY STORIES ABOUT ANIMALS 

slept, and slept and played and ate. He learned all the time, 
but he didn’t know it! If he could have spoken man-talk, he 
might have said he was having a fine time! He grew and 
thrived with the puppies and played and frolicked as one of 
them, and only Dixie knew he was not her very own. 

“It was a pretty sight to see them rolling together in the 
sun, tumbling over one another in clumsy play, the dark gray 
among the larger tan and white ones, and prettier still to see 
Rex lead his dog brothers and sisters a chase. Naturally, he 
found his legs much sooner than they did, and could race up 
and down the yard long before the puppies could do more 
than stagger around. The puppies, being thoroughbreds, re- 
sented this superiority and nearly burst their little hearts in 
vain endeavors to keep up, 

“But the prettiest picture of all was the one made by Rex 
and Dixie when that cleanly dog insisted on giving her foster 
baby a bath ! Her tongue was large and rough and very dis- 
agreeable to poor Rex, and he was too small to do more than 
‘meauw’ loudly when Dixie held him down with two strong 
but gentle paws and vigorously washed him. Once in a while 
he would manage to escape, and then a sudden spring would 
land him on the top of the high board fence or the roof of the 
woodshed. There he would listen calmly to a chorus of 
frantic whining from anxious Dixie, remonstrating with all 
her might against this very undog-like behavior. 

“When Rex would composedly walk along the top of that 
same board fence, Dixie followed on the ground, pawing the 
dirt and eagerly whining, lost in an amazement which she 
never got over, at the “up-in-the-air” tactics of her foundling 
child. 

“Sometimes Rex would catch a bird and bring it to Dixie 
to eat, an offering of love, to the great distress of that much 


THE FOSTER BABY KING CAT 


135 


worried animal ! Rats, yes, and mice in season, Dixie under- 
stood. All fox terriers like rats. But this pleasant smelling, 
evil feeling thing was beyond her knowledge. For hours 
after the equally surprised Rex had eaten up his offering, she 
would stand near him, convinced he was going to be ill, and 
waiting to show by example, at the first symptom, that grass 
was a good medicine to eat. 

“But with all his queer habits and tastes, Rex was the most 
dearly loved of all Dixie’s babies. She just put it all down 
to natural depravity and loved him the more that he was not 
as her other children. 

“Rex grew from kittenhood to young cathood — large, hand- 
some, strong, knowing, gentle and very happy. But one day 
something strange happened. In a basket with some of 
Dixie’s new puppies, Rex was taken to an animal store. He 
didn’t understand that it was so he could be cared for until 
the little boy came back from his summer vacation. But he 
found the change very nice for a little while. There were lots 
of things to find out and lots of things to see and hear. 
Doubtless the experience taught him a great deal. But being 
shut up in a little cage, and having no exercise, no climbing, 
no fresh air or sunshine, and, worst of all, no Dixie, he soon 
began to find it very tiresome. At the end of a week, he was 
a very restless cat. It was spring, too, and that is when all 
animals feel most alive. One morning, Rex awoke with the 
conviction that he was going to leave his little cage with its 
surroundings of screaming birds, howling dogs and chattering 
monkeys. 

“That night, after the last attendant had left, Rex inserted 
a cunning paw beneath a torn edge of the wire screening run- 
ning around the bottom of his cage, and, pulling and tugging, 
finally managed to make an opening large enough for his head. 


r 3 6 TELL-ME-WHY STORIES ABOUT ANIMALS 

The rest was easy. He hid under the counter downstairs in 
the store, and when sleepy Jim, the sweeper, grumblingly 
opened the store the next morning, something like a gray flash 
whisked by him and Rex was free and away, leaving a 
frightened boy and a damaged cage behind him. 

“Not waiting to see any of that wonderful down town of 
which he had heard, Rex started for what he knew was home, 
with a steady trot that left the long blocks quickly behind. 
How did he find his home? By instinct and by his dog train- 
ing. In two hours he was again climbing the roof of the 
familiar woodshed and ‘meauwing’ for Dixie. But Dixie 
was away with the little boy. Rex stayed around the house 
three days, eating such food as he could unearth and what 
scraps he might find. Then he decided he would come again 
for Dixie; now he would go into the unknown world to seek 
his living. 

“On the outskirts of the city where he had been brought 
up stood a row of half burned deserted houses. They were 
full of rats and mice and the hunting ground of three wild, 
otherwise homeless cats. Rex decided he would stay here. 
By whipping all three of the cats in possession, he proved his 
right to his name of king. With them as subjects, he started 
the kingdom over which he ruled so long. It was in this 
neighborhood that he got his name of Old Scratch — Old 
Scratch, who is still spoken of among the people who live 
there as the most daring and cunning thief that ever dived over 
the back yard fences. 

“Old Scratch liked his new home and life. He found his 
power sweet and so did not go back to the quiet home life 
and Dixie and the puppies. He lived in the ruins and near 
neighborhood, wild and free and unmastered. The old houses 
were his home, his hunting ground and his kingdom, and right 


THE FOSTER BABY KING CAT 


137 


royally, undisputed, he reigned until near the end of his life. 

“He speedily learned, among other things, that the people 
of this new place were not the same kind as those he had 
known and loved. He soon found out they would injure him 
if they could, and he learned to be cunning and sly and wary 
accordingly, and to keep out of sight in the daytime — to steal 
only at night. 

“What is wrong for a little boy or a man may be right for a 
cat. When the mice and rats grew scarce, in the hot weather, 
Old Scratch began to help himself to what food he could find, 
regardless of its rightful owner. If a cellar had a wire 
screened window, he (remembering his escape from the cage) 
would insert a strong paw beneath one edge, and, pulling and 
tugging, would loosen it so that he, or one of the smaller cats, 
could crawl through and drag off what meat was to be found. 
If milk was left in glass bottles on window sills, Old Scratch 
knocked them down, to lap the white liquid from the broken 
glass. Did a dog attempt to give the alarm, or in any way 
interfere with him, he was so scratched and bitten by the big 
cat and his band that he was glad to hide a torn and bleeding 
head in his kennel when Old Scratch appeared. Old Scratch 
had been so well trained by Dixie that he feared no dog. 

“Of course, it was not to be supposed that he could steal 
without the people trying to stop him. He frequently dodged 
boots, bootjacks, tin cans and sticks of wood, but always 
managed to escape harm. One by one he added recruits to 
his army of cats. If a new cat put in an appearance and did 
not admit that Old Scratch was king, he promptly whipped 
him or her. Few cats cared to encounter the fierce old veteran 
more than once. 

“Old Scratch — born Rex — grew to be very large and very 
strong. He was wholly without fear, undefeated in a single 


138 TELL-ME-WHY STORIES ABOUT ANIMALS 

fight, and absolute leader of a small army of cats as wild as 
himself. 

“Of course, he had some unpleasant adventures. One day 
he went to steal some meat from a cellar. It happened that 
the people who owned that house were having it painted. The 
painters had left a lot of their paints down cellar, and Old 
Scratch, in getting some meat out of a pantry, dipped his tail 
into a pot of varnish! Of course, he didn’t know it was 
varnish, and it didn’t worry him any. But when he lay down 
to sleep that night, he curled his tail around him to keep 
himself warm. And the varnish dried and hardened ! When 
Old Scratch woke up, his tail was fastened to the top of his 
head and to the floor of the old house he was in, too ! 

“Old Scratch had a terrible time. Of course, he was hor- 
ribly frightened — he had never been fastened down like this 
before. And he kicked and struggled and cried and howled, 
and finally, with a terrible wrench, pulled a lot of hair out of 
his head, and got that free, and then a lot more out of his 
tail, and got that loose! But he was a sight — half bald, and 
with his tail a perfect disgrace. It looked like a rat’s tail, 
and he felt it very keenly indeed, and licked two cats very 
badly because they laughed cat laughs at him ! 

“And this wasn’t the worst of it, either. 

“Hard times were in store for the king and his band. The 
cats had gradually made themselves so much of a nuisance 
that the people, whose dinners he stole, sought help from two 
things of which Old Scratch, wise and knowing as he was, 
knew little. One was a funny sort of meat which, when 
eaten, promptly tied a cat up in a knot that was never un- 
tangled. The other was a long black thing that spoke with a 
noise and that left little spots of red on the unfortunate cat 
who always died as the noise was heard. Once old Yellow 


THE FOSTER BABY KING CAT 


139 


Spot lost an eye by being too near when her pet son was shot, 
and one sad, never to be forgotten day, Old Scratch was hit 
and his tail so injured that it dropped off. This was hard on 
the old warrior; he had to learn anew the art of balancing 
himself on the top of a high board fence, and this took about 
two weeks, to say nothing of the burning smart that was where 
his tail had been. Of course, it was a comfort to get rid of 
that varnished, ratlike tail, but it was unpleasant just the 
same. 

“Things went from bad to worse. Finally, Old Scratch, 
knowing when he was beaten, removed his band of followers 
from the back yards that had been their hunting ground and 
took up his residence in the ruins, to live on rats and what 
birds might be caught, probably planning to stay only a short 
while. 

“For a time they managed pretty well. But now there were 
more than the first three cats to prey on the rats and mice, 
which soon became wary and shy. Then Old Scratch discov- 
ered a little house, not more than half a mile away, where 
there were large feathered things he had heard called 
‘chickens/ For two weeks the band lived high. The leader 
did most of the killing and hauling. It was not over much of 
a task for his strength to drag the newly killed bird to the 
ruins, where all the cats could eat the good dinner in peace. 

“One night Old Scratch found one in the house already 
dead. He carried it to his favorite spot and prepared to make 
a meal. Most of the cats were hunting, and those few who 
were around dared not attempt to share in the feast until he, 
the king, was done. So Old Scratch had no warning of what 
was to come. He was very hungry and had swallowed several 
mouthfuls, hardly noticing it was not as good as usual, when a 
sudden, sharp pain warned him that there was danger in his 


140 TELL-ME-WHY STORIES ABOUT ANIMALS 

meal. He knew what it was. He had seen enough cats bite 
and tear at themselves when the poison in the meat tormented 
them. Remembering his training, he raced silently for the 
door and commenced to eat grass. He knew that would help 
him if he were to be helped at all, and he also knew it was a 
race — could he eat enough in time? He ate steadily and 
rapidly, paying no attention to the pain. At last he conquered. 
The grass did its work, and, sick and weak, but rid of the 
poisonous meat, he staggered back into the house and to the 
dead bird and fell asleep, exhausted. 

“When he woke again, three cats lay dead around him, and 
a circle of gleaming, yellow eyes seemed to accuse him of the 
tragedy. In royal disregard, he walked slowly out of doors 
and into the sunshine, and, staggering again, curled up for an- 
other long sleep — Nature’s cure for all animal ills. But it was 
the beginning of the end for Old Scratch. 

“He was very ill for days, he got thin and worn and weak, 
and he could not eat, although his one time sovereignty would 
still have brought him a share of any kill he wished, even if he 
no longer helped them or led them as in the days gone by. 

“Thinner and weaker he grew, and his fierce old face grew 
fiercer as he realized that his rule was over. The end came 
soon. Food got scarcer, the band no longer worked together, 
and finally it dwindled to nothing. Old Scratch was left alone, 
with no one to help him as he had so often helped others. His 
rule had been one of strength, knowledge and cunning, not one 
of love, and the fear of him gone, not one cat stayed to kill 
for him the food he was too tired to hunt and kill for himself. 

“But with the approach of the sunset of his life, came 
memories of its dawn and earlier times than those of fight and 
forage. One morning, in the pleasant May sunshine, Old 
Scratch trotted wearily away from the scene that had known 


THE FOSTER BABY KING CAT 141 

him so long and left behind forever the kingdom he had ruled. 
Down the long hill into the city, around this corner and across 
that lot, through door yards and across streets, with steady 
purpose in every step, then finally down an alley, and, with 
an effort, on to a certain woodshed. 

“Yes, Dixie was there, but with no eyes for Old Scratch. 
Dixie was chained, three puppies at her side. Out in the yard, 
out of her reach, was another pup, and, standing over it, a 
large black cat. Dixie was growling and barking and strain- 
ing at her chain, but the big cat knew he was safe. He had a 
revenge to work on Dixie. He remembered the countless 
times she had chased him. Now he could do what he pleased 
to her baby and she couldn’t help herself. She was chained. 
The black cat struck at the helpless little dog with a steely paw. 
A gray catapult shot down from the shed — a lithe, tense form, 
quivering with eagerness, crouched low, a spitting snarl came 
from the black cat, and Old Scratch, his blood at boiling point, 
his illness, his weakness, all forgotten, launched himself 
straight at the black throat in defense of the little brother dog. 

“Old Scratch was a famous fighter, and never had he fought 
as now, but weakened as he was with illness, he found his 
match in the big black cat. But Old Scratch fought as a dog 
fought, and this style of run in, bite, claw and get away, was 
new to the black cat. He began to find himself hard pressed. 
Over and over, ’round and ’round they went, sometimes locked 
in a deadly clutch, more often separated and sparring viciously. 
Deep throated cries and snarls of rage and pain came from the 
black cat, while Old Scratch fought as he had always done — 
in silence. Dixie had taught him that noise in a fight is a 
waste of breath. 

“Gradually Old Scratch got weaker and weaker, yet he 
fought on with the spirit, nerve and courage that had held 


142 TELL-ME-WHY STORIES ABOUT ANIMALS 

him so long in his place of leader. He must have known, wise 
old warrior, that if he was to win, it would be through wit 
rather than by the pitiful remaining bit of strength he could 
muster. Suddenly — was it instinct or something Dixie had 
taught him in that dim long ago? — he broke from his ad- 
versary and ran for the slightly open door of the woodshed. 
After him raced the black cat, sure now of victory. Old 
Scratch was no sooner in than he dashed out again and 
crouched low. Waiting, he sprang directly on top of the Tom, 
as he tore out, wild to finish. It was cunningly done. Old 
Scratch loosened his hold a little, just enough to give the black 
cat time to turn on his back, and then — ah, then , down went 
two rows of gleaming white teeth into the black throat. It 
was the end of the fight. It was the end of Old Scratch, too, 
and no one knew it better than he, but it was sure victory also 
and that was what he wanted. 

“The black cat thrashed and turned, ripping poor weak Old 
Scratch with the terrible raking stroke of his steel clawed 
hind paws. He tore at the worn and poisoned old body, but, 
do what he would, could never break that dog-taught grip. 
Presently his struggles grew less and less, and finally, with a 
quiver and a gurgling, choking cry, he lay still. 

“Old Scratch loosened his jaws, and, staggering slowly, his 
eyes glazing, he crawled slowly up to Dixie and snuggled down 
with a sigh that was half a cry and half a purr and wholly 
content, as in the days of his kittenhood. And Dixie put out 
her tongue, and with little whines of wonder and sympathy 
and half forgotten mother tenderness for her foster baby stir- 
ring in her heart, licked the tom and bloody fur.” 

Old Pops stopped, and his hand went up to Small Son’s 
cheek. Small Son sat very quiet, not wriggling nor wroggling 
the least bit. 


THE FOSTER BABY KING CAT 


143 

“I don’t — like him — to die !” he said, in a very, very small 
voice indeed. 

“Neither do I!” answered Old Pops. “But it wouldn’t be 
half as good a story if he didn’t. Remember, he died like a 
soldier, a regular general of a cat, fighting to the end, de- 
fending his little foster brother, paying his debt. It was the 
poison which killed him, really, because he would have eaten 
that black cat up in a fight when he was well and strong.” 

“Why, Papa!” cried Carlie-boy. “Is it a true story?” 

“Yes,” answered Old Pops. 

“How do you know it’s true?” demanded Small Son, who 
always wants everything explained. 

“I was the little boy,” answered Old Pops, softly. 

“Oh — h-h-h-h-h !” cried Carlie-boy. 

And that was the very endmost end of the Story of the 
Foster Baby King Cat with the Varnished Tail who knew 
the Dog Taught Grip. 


The Story of the Bad-Tempered Rosserus, of the Indignant 
Bug-Eaters Who Wouldn’t Help, of the Enemy Who 
Stabbed Through the Joints in His Armor, and 
of His Single Friend Among the Birds 

O LD POPS crept down the stairs, softly, softly. He 
looked fearfully around and behind him, peered back of 
the curtains, and stopped and looked under the table. You 
would have thought he expected to see a lion or a burglar or 
something equally terrible. But of course he didn’t see any- 
thing like that. Then he lit the lamp that hangs over the 
couch and punched a lot of very inoffensive sofa pillows into a 
topply mountain at one end. Next he lit the open fire that 
Carlie-boy builds so faithfully every morning, and finally, 
with a long sigh of contentment, he stretched himself out, half 
on the couch and half on the topply mountain, and opened his 
book. 

But Old Pops forgot to look in the front room! 

It was a grave oversight! From the front room came 
stealing softly, lightly, a little figure, with a wicked smile upon 
its merry face. It crept up to the head of the couch and, reach- 
ing over, pulled the little chain on the electric light. Of course 
the light went out, and Old Pops couldn’t read any more. 

“You rascal !” he cried, and Carlie-boy could hear him smil- 
ing. “I thought you were safe somewhere else !” 

“I was somewhere else!” laughed Carlie-boy, gleefully. “I 
was in there, all the time. And I saw you hunting for me, 
and looking back of the curtains and under the table, and I 

144 


THE BAD-TEMPERED ROSSERUS 145 

had to stuff my handkerchief in my mouth to keep from 
laughing. And now Eve got you !” 

Old Pops pulled the chain again, so Carlie-boy could see to 
climb up and sit in the middle of the couch. Old Pops 
scrooched away over towards the wall to give him plenty of 
room. But Carlie-boy takes up as much room as any two Old 
Pops, though he is only so high and Old Pops is as big as 
that. He didn’t want to sit on the middle of the couch. He 
wanted to sit on the middle of the Middlemost Middle of his 
Old Pops, and he did so, with many a grunt and groan from 
Old Pops while he got settled. 

“Ugh — well — Oh, Oh ! You are too heavy for such foolish- 
ness. Ugh! What is it? — oh! — Now?” 

“It’s animals!” cried Carlie-boy. “I never knew there were 
so many in the world before.” 

“I knew it !” cried Old Pops. “I told your mother it was a 
fatal mistake to induct you into the mysteries of the National 
Museum of Natural History. I said to her, 'Respected chate- 
laine of the household, do not take my child to see the stuffed 
animals ! For if you do, there will be no rest for the provider- 
in-chief until he has told forty eleventeen stories about each 
and every one. Do not take him to see the bones of the pre- 
historic monsters, nor yet the groups of modern mammals, for 
if you do, your devoted slave will have to repair to an asylum 
for the indigent insane, after an ineffective excursion into the 
interior of a hospital devoted to eleemosynary repairing of 
worn out cerebellums !’ Now, didn’t I ?” 

“Huh?” asked Carlie-boy. “Didn’t you what? What’s a 
cerebellum ?” 

“A cerebellum — ” began Old Pops, but Carlie-boy interrupted. 

“Never mind that!” he said, hastily. “Tell me why those 
animals are stuffed and who stuffed them, and how they came 


146 TELL-ME-WHY stories about animals 

there and what they are for and what the funny thing with the 
long tail is, and why some of the animals are nothing but bones 
and what the big tail one was and why the lion didn’t have his 
mouth open and about the bird that is shut up in the tree and 
why the big black thing with a horn on its nose has a bad temper 
and—” 

“Help, help!” cried Old Pop's, feebly. “And I thought you 
were upstairs !” 

“Go on, now, please!” wheedled Carlie-boy. 

“Oh, well — all right. I will tell you one story about one 
animal,” agreed Old Pops, “if you will promise me you will run 
away afterwards and not say a single ‘tell me why’ again to- 
night.” 

Carlie-boy considered. 

“All right!” he agreed. “I’ll be going to bed then, anyway. 
“But couldn’t you make it three stories about three animals?” 

“I could not !” Old Pops was very emphatic. 

“Well, could you make it two stories about two animals?” 
teased Carlie-boy. 

“I could not !” said Old Pops, very determined indeed. 

“We-e-e-e-ell, then,” suggested Carlie-boy, “make it one 
story about two animals !” 

“Never!” declaimed Old Pops. “Tyranny must be resisted 
to the bitter end.” 

“Oh, all right!” said Carlie-boy, resignedly. “Tell me one 
story about one animal, then.” 

Old Pops smiled, and Carlie-boy gave a jump and a spring 
at just the right time and Old Pops was so busy keeping his 
insides from bursting he just had to nod instead of speak. 

“But only one animal, mind !” cried Old Pops, as soon as he 
could get his breath. “Now, which one shall it be?” 

“Let me see!” and Carlie-boy considered very carefully. 


THE BAD-TEMPERED ROSSERUS 


147 


“There was that long animal that wasn’t an animal at all — 
just bones. But I don’t know how he looked when he was 
alive. And there was that sea lion — all warts and so fat. And 
there was the buffalo with the big black funny horns — I’d like 
to know about him. And then there was the spotted giantaffe 
thing — he was very curious looking. Then there was the tree 
full of monkeys — I’d like to know about them, too. But I 
think if the story is going to be about just one animal, I’d like 
to have it about the rosserus !” 

“Precisely!” exclaimed Old Pops. “The rosserus! But 
what is a rosserus?” 

“Why, Pops! Don’t you remember? Oh, you couldn’t. 
It was Mamma took me, wasn’t it? Well, there was a man 
there. And he was telling people all about the animals inside 
the glass houses in the big house. And one of them was a 
rosserus. It looked like a great big pig or a little elephant 
without a trunk and it had a horn on its nose and was black and 
the man said it had a very bad temper, and there were little 
birds on it, and he said they were the friends of the rosserus. 
Now, what is a rosserus, and why has it a horn on its nose, 
and why is it bad tempered, and how did it get birds for 
friends, and why are they his friends and what do they do and 
all about it?” 

“That is a fine mouthful of a question,” laughed Old Pops. 
“I should think a professor might write a natural history of a 
rosserus from such a question! Well — but only one story 
about one animal mind — I will tell you the story of the Bad 
Tempered Rosserus, of the Indignant Bug Eaters Who 
Wouldn’t Help, of the Enemy Who Stabbed Through the 
Joints in His Armor, and of His Single Friend Among the 
Birds. 

“I have told you about Mother Nature’s gifts to the animals. 


148 tell-me-why stories about animals 

Of course, she didn’t walk up to an animal, and hand him a 
nice little box tied up with red and green ribbon like you get at 
Christmas and say, ‘Here, Lion (or Tiger or Elephant or Kan- 
garoo or Whale or Lemming or Squirrel or Pig or Cow or 
Dinosaur or whatever it was), here is a nice little present for 
you. Be sure to open it carefully and say, Thank you !’ 

“I am not even sure that Mother Nature gave all the animals 
her gifts at the same time — I know she reserved some for thou- 
sands of years and only gave them as the earth changed, and 
as the animals needed new help in order to be able to live. 
For instance, Bear didn’t always sleep in Time of Cold, because 
once there was no Time of Cold. It was very doubtful if the 
great-great-million-times great-grandfathers of Striped Terror 
and Leopard of to-day were striped and spotted as they are, be- 
cause in the early days of life it was not so necessary for the 
great flesh eating cats to conceal themselves in the woods to 
get their prey. Then there was so much animal life that any 
animal could get a meal by just going out and helping itself. 

“Nor can we always say why Mother Nature didn’t give an 
animal more gifts than she did. Of course, we know that a 
dog doesn’t need hands like a monkey, nor a tail either, because 
he doesn’t live in trees and climb like a monkey. And we can 
understand that if she gave wings to an elephant or put an ele- 
phant’s trunk on a tiger, for instance, it would be very incon- 
venient. But why she gave some animals better sight and 
smell and hearing than others, we don’t always know. And 
yet, in a way, we do know, too, for almost always, when an 
animal has one poor sense, he has another very fine one indeed 
to make up for it. 

“There is Eagle, for instance, with the finest sight in the 
world. He has little, if any, sense of smell. And there is 
Rhinoceros, or Rosserus, as you called him, who has about the 


THE BAD-TEMPERED ROSSERUS 


149 


finest nose in the world, and can't see much of anything that 
isn’t right in front of him. We call him short sighted, because 
he only sees a short distance. 

“It seems almost as if Mother Nature had just so many gifts 
to give away and as if she distributed them around so that 
each animal would have some one thing very, very fine, even if 
the rest were poor, doesn't it ? 

“ ‘Here, you poor homely thing,' I can fancy her saying to 
Rhinoceros, ‘you haven’t got much use for fine eyesight. 
But you must have something fine — I’ll give you a dandy 
smeller. It will tell you where everything is just about as well 
as sight, anyway. Then, you must have a weapon — such a 
big animal must have something to fight with. I’m going to 
give you a fine weapon, and I’m going to put it where it will do 
the most good.' 

“She reached out her hand and twisted the hair on Rhino's 
nose up into a sharp point, and it stayed that way and grew 
into a horn — a short, stumpy, sharp and very powerful horn. 
Then Mother Nature gave Rhino the strongest kind of bones 
in his head and tremendous muscles. 

“ ‘Now, one gift more, and I think I’ll have you fixed up!’ 
said Mother Nature. 

“She stepped up to Rhino and passed her hands over him, 
and behold, he was clad in a suit of armor, like the soldiers 
of the olden time who fought in steel clothes, so the other 
soldiers couldn’t hurt them with swords and spears!” 

“I know,” assented Carlie-boy. “Like the Knights in the 
King Arthur stories.” 

“Exactly!” agreed Old Pops. “Like the Knights in the 
King Arthur stories. Rhino got a coat of mail. Of course, 
it isn’t a coat of metal like King Arthur and his Knights 
had made for them by the cunning workmen who fashioned 


150 TELL-ME-WHY STORIES ABOUT ANIMALS 

steel and iron into breastplates and helmets, leg greaves and 
mail shirts and all those protections. No indeed. Rhino’s 
armor is made of skin. But it is very, very heavy, and very , 
very thick, and very , very, VERY strong skin indeed — two 
inches thick or more in some places. And it is so tough and so 
strong that even Lion’s strong claws or Tiger’s big jaws have a 
very, very, very hard time tearing it. 

“Now you can imagine that when a Knight in the time of 
King Arthur went out to fight, he wasn’t very much frightened. 
If the other fellow had a sword or a lance or spear, why that 
was all right, because the sword or lance or spear would just 
glance off his steel clothes and not hurt him at all. Sometimes 
those old Knights would go fighting and they’d fight all day 
long, just banging away at each other, and when night time 
came they were so tired they couldn’t lift their arms, but 
neither one was hurt! 

“If they wanted to hurt each other, they had to thrust their 
spears or swords through the joints in the armor, where the 
pieces were fastened together. I want you to remember that 
armor has joints and that it is through the joints that Knights 
of old wounded each other and that Rhino is clothed in skin 
armor — which has joints! 

“Well, behold Rhino as Mother Nature made him. Big 
round body, short stumpy legs, tremendous thick skin, a ter- 
rible horn on the keenest smelling nose you ever saw, very 
little eyesight. It was a great combination — for Rhino. And 
though I don’t suppose Rhino ever appreciated it, the rest of 
the animals were very glad that Mother Nature hadn’t given 
Rhino much eyesight. 

“But do you suppose that Rhino was satisfied and contented ? 
Not a bit of it. Rhino didn’t like his eyes. And he didn’t like 
his looks. Every time he went to a stream and saw himself in 


THE BAD-TEMPERED ROSSERUS 


151 

it, it made him mad. And his eyes were deceiving him all the 
time — he’d look at a bush and think it was another Rhino dis- 
puting the water hole with him. Then he would just put 
down his head and, pointing his hard horn forward, would rush 
and bellow and paw the ground and tear the bush to pieces. 
And when he found it was only a bush, he’d get madder than 
ever. Sometimes it would be a tree that he would fancy was an 
enemy — maybe he thought it was Python, the great snake. 
Anyway, down would go his head and full tilt, slam bang, into 
the tree he would go with a terrible blow, and if his horn hadn’t 
been made unusually strong and the bones in his head like steel, 
I think he would have broken them to pieces long ago ! 

“And of course Monkey sat on a tree, and jeered, and Kite, 
up in the air, screamed at him for a fool, and other animals 
and birds made fun of him, and that didn’t improve his temper 
at all ! 

“ ‘Better look out/ Mother Nature suggested to him. ‘You 
lose your temper very quickly, Rhino. And every time you do 
it, you lose a friend. First thing you know, none of the 
animals will like you !’ 

“ T don’t care whether they do or not. I hate animals ! 
I hate everything ! I hate you !’ and naughty, naughty Rhino 
went charging off into the jungle. 

“Mother Nature smiled, gently. She knew Rhino didn’t 
mean it — or if he had, he would be sorry. You see, Mother 
Nature knew about the joints in his armor and Rhino didn’t. 
Rhino was very, very strong and very, very brave inside his 
armor, and very, very short tempered. It didn’t take him 
long to teach the rest of the animals to respect him, either — 
and it was while he was doing it that they became so glad he 
had poor eyesight. It started one day with Rhino in the water 
hole and Lion coming down to drink. Rhino was standing in 


152 


TELL-ME-WHY STORIES ABOUT ANIMALS 


the drinking hole, muddying the water all up. Lion, you know, 
is very proud of his strength and cunning, and he determined 
that this awkward beast should have a lesson in manners. 

“ ‘The very idea !’ said Lion to Mrs. Lion. ‘Standing there 
in my water, muddying it all up !’ 

'‘Lion walked majestically down to the hole and lifted up his 
voice and roared. 

“ 'Come out of that, you great, big, lumbering, hulking, ugly 
beast, you!’ he cried. 'I am Lion, King of the Jungle, and I 
wish to drink!’ 

"Rhino didn’t say anything. He just kept on sloshing him- 
self with water, his small, fierce, near-sighted eyes fixed on 
Lion. It wasn’t his eyes, however, which told him what was 
talking to him, but his nose. Rhino’s nose can tell him what 
it is he smells, where it is, how far off it is, as well as eyes 
can. He knew perfectly well it was Lion. And he didn’t care 
a bit. 

" 'I hate Lion!’ he said to himself. 

" ‘Come on out of that,’ roared Lion again, 'or I will — ’ 

"Just what Lion was going to do I don’t know. For all 
of a sudden Rhino got terribly angry. He rushed out of that 
water like a canal boat gone crazy. His big feet went slosh- 
slosh in the mud and he put his head down and charged at 
Lion. Lion gave a little spring to one side, and as Rhino went 
by, he gave one single stroke of his steel clawed paw, expecting 
to rip the side off Rhino. But Rhino had a side that wouldn’t 
come off. Of course, I suppose the claws made scratches in 
the tough hide, but much Rhino cared. In a second he had 
wheeled around, and caught Mr. Lion right in his Middlemost 
Middle with that horn. One mighty heave of the great head, 
and Lion was tossed twenty feet away. He landed in a clump 
of thorns, and he picked himself out of that clump of thorns 


THE BAD-TEMPERED ROSSERUS 


153 

and put his tail between his legs and just skedaddled, I tell 
you ! 

“ ‘My, but that Rhino person is a rude creature !’ Lion com- 
plained to Mrs. Lion. ‘It’s a wonder I am not asleep for the 
long sleep. He has a horn like a sharp stick and his skin is as 
tough as a stone. And all I did was to tell him very politely 
to get out of that water hole, and he got as mad as anything!’ 

“Mrs. Lion, being wise, said nothing. 

“Tiger happened to be passing, just then, and heard what 
Lion said. Now, Tiger was somewhat jealous of Lion. Ac- 
cording to Tiger’s idea, Lion was a little too sure who was 
King of the Jungle. So he smiled a Tiger smile and went off 
to look for Rhino. I don’t know what he said because I wasn’t 
there, and if I had been there, I wouldn’t have been there at 
all, but at the very tip-tip-tipmost top of the tallest tree I 
could climb! But I suspect that Tiger purred and licked his 
whiskers and said to himself, 

“ ‘Now, fancy Lion running away from this Rhino person. 
Lion is too cock-sure of himself. Just wait until I meet Mr. 
Rhino. I’ll show him who is King of the Jungle!’ 

“Well, about this time there was a thundering crash ! Tiger 
looked around, startled. He hadn’t known there was anything 
there to make a crash like that. Unfortunately for him, he 
looked the wrong way. Something that appeared like an over- 
grown rock on legs, with little wicked red eyes that were fairly 
crying, their owner was so angry, came speeding out of the 
woods. It speeded pretty fast, too. And by the time Tiger 
had turned around and flattened himself out on the ground 
to spring, and had his tail quivering, ready to jump, this thun- 
dering avalanche of flesh was upon him. It was Rhino, of 
course, still so angry he didn’t know what to do. 

“Tiger rather wished he was somewhere else. But Tiger 


154 TELL-ME-WHY STORIES ABOUT ANIMALS 

wasn’t made Tiger for nothing, so he upped with his paws 
and he opened his claws and he stretched his jaws and really he 
made some very respectable dents in Rhino’s tough armor. 
But, alas for Tiger. He didn’t get off as easily as Lion had. 
Rhino’s great horn caught him right under the chin, and when 
he was tossed twenty feet in the jungle he was tossed by the 
horn catching in the under side of his jaw. And when he came 
down he lay stretched at full length, very quiet and very still. 
Good night, Tiger! 

“ T wonder why he doesn’t get up?’ said Monkey, softly in 
the tree. “It isn’t time for Tiger to go to sleep/ 

“ T wonder why Tiger doesn’t get up/ snarled Jackal, com- 
ing around and sniffing, hungrily. ‘He smells very good. 
Can it be that — ” 

“But Jackal didn’t stop to see whether Tiger was dead or not. 
Of course, he was dead — very, very dead indeed, because his 
neck was broken. But Rhino, who was pawing the ground and 
snorting with rage and wondering where that beast had gone 
he had just flirted away in the air, suddenly smelled him. 
Down went his head and he charged the smell — a great, lum- 
bering, hulky beast, just as Lion had said he was, as mad as mad 
could be. And he charged that poor old dead tiger and tossed 
him, and then he charged a tree and broke that, and finally a 
bush got in his way and he tore that to pieces, and then, feeling 
thirsty — and no wonder, after all that fighting! — he went back 
to his water hole and finished out his drink ! 

“‘Horrible things, Lions!’ said Rhino to himself. ‘I hate 
Lions. Nasty brutes, Tigers. I hate Tigers. Disagreeable 
things, bushes. Look so much like Gorillas. I hate bushes. 
Useless, ugly things, trees. I hate trees. Always standing 
straight up in my way. Chattering, noisy things, Monkeys. 
And Birds. I hate Monkeys. And I hate Birds. I hate 


THE BAD-TEMPERED ROSSERUS 


155 

everything. I can't see. It makes me angry when I can’t 
see. I am angry now. I am so angry that — ’ 

“And Rhino, working himself up into a rage, charged out 
of the water and fought a mighty fight with a bush and a 
sapling and came off victorious. 

“ Tt makes no difference to me!’ he said, lifting up his 
voice, proudly, to the jungle. ‘Lion, King of the Jungle, I 
tossed and he ran away ! Tiger, slinking and cunning, I tossed 
only once and he hasn’t stirred since — except when I threw 
him around to show how strong I am. Bushes I demolish 
with one rush. Trees I break and tear. I am stronger, 
stronger, strongest. I can smell anything afar off and I have 
a tough hide and a strong horn and I don’t give two mud holes 
and one full meal for any one or anything or anybody. I 
hate, hate, hate everything that is around me that I can’t see 
and I am glad I hate them and I am going to keep on hating 
them and never, never, never be friends with anything and — 
oh, I am so angry!’ 

“And off he went again, charging into the jungle and hunt- 
ing for something he could toss to show how strong he was. 

“But Mother Nature stood to one side and smiled. You 
see, Mother Nature knew about the joints in his armor, and 
Rhino didn’t. 

“‘Better be a little careful, Rhino,’ I suspect she warned 
him. ‘You can’t live forever without some friends. You are 
strong and you have a wonderful weapon and your tough hide 
protects you from enemies that you don’t see in time — Lion 
and Tiger have a hard time scratching you and Snakes can’t 
bite you, but you lose your temper all the time, and every time 
you do it, you lose a friend.’ 

“ ‘Don’t want any friends !’ snapped Rhino, walking away. 
‘Ugh — nasty little beast !’ 


1 56 TELL-ME-WHY STORIES ABOUT ANIMALS 

“This was Lizard — a perfectly harmless, inoffensive little 
reptile that never ate anything but bugs and did no one any 
harm. But Rhino set his big foot down hard and if it hadn’t 
been for his poor eyesight, Lizard would have been a sort of 
pancake bug eater — as flat as Flounder Fish and not half as 
lively. As it was, the big foot caught Lizard’s tail and broke 
it off, and Lizard was scared out of his lizardous wits, and the 
way he streaked it into a crack in the rocks to nurse the place 
his tail had been, reminded one of a flash of lightning. 

“Rhino went tramping off through the woods, glaring to 
this side and that, trying to see what was what and mistaking 
bushes for animals and trees for Elephant and rocks for 
Lion, and just as mad as he could be. One of the trees he 
ran into, thinking it was Hippopotamus, had a whole family 
of Monkeys in it. He ran into the tree with such a crash 
that the tree broke right off short in the middle and suddenly 
the air was full of Monkeys, all dropping out! Most of them 
caught on branches of other trees with their clever little hands 
and tails, but there was one baby Monkey that fell right on 
the ground in front of Rhino. 

“ ‘Ugh !’ bellowed Rhino. ‘One of those Monkey folk ! 
Always chattering and throwing down nuts and sticks on me. 
Well, here goes one Monkey, anyway — ” and down went his 
great head to horn that Monkey into a rag of a Monkey, noth- 
ing but hair and a tail. But a Monkey isn’t a Monkey for 
nothing. This particular Monkey gave a jump, caught the 
horn in one hand, put one foot on the snout, and gave a jump 
right onto Rhino’s back. But he didn’t stay there ! Oh dear, 
no ! He ran over Rhino’s back with a scuttling skedaddle, a 
sort of prancing run, and was off and up in a tree and chatter- 
ing insults at Rhino before Rhino could raise his big angry 
head! 


THE BAD-TEMPERED ROSSERUS 


157 


“ ‘Nasty, horrid, beastly beast !’ chattered the Monkeys. 
‘Break down our tree and try to kill us, will you? Hateful, 
hateful, hateful !’ 

“And Rhino couldn't do a single thing to get even, except 
try to tear down the tree they were in. But it was too strong 
for him and all he did was give himself a headache. 

“Well, Rhino went along this way for a good while. He 
hated all the animals, and fought with all that would fight 
with him, except Elephant. He kept out of Elephant’s way, 
because, you know, even if you are big and strong and have a 
hide like steel and a horn like a battering ram, that’s no reason 
to get into a fight with a thing nine times as big as you are. 
Rhino had seen Elephant get into a row with Crocodile, in 
the river, and watched Elephant pick Crocodile up in his 
trunk, hold him down on the ground and then kneel on him. 
And talk about Flounder Fish being flat! Crocodile was so 
flat you couldn’t tell him from the ground when Elephant got 
off him ! No, Rhino didn’t fight with Elephant when he could 
help it, although even then, sometimes, he made it hot for Ele- 
phant if he could just hook that horn of his in Elephant’s soft 
and unprotected stomach. 

“But all the other animals Rhino hated. And all the other 
animals hated Rhino. He was so angry about nothing, he 
muddied up the water holes so, and he fought without any 
reason, and with anything at all, and he was so disagreeable, 
no wonder they hated him! And as for remembering what 
Mother Nature said, about his sometimes needing a friend — 
Rhino just sniffed at the idea. But then, Mother Nature knew 
about the joints in Rhino’s armor, and Rhino didn’t. 

“But he was to learn — and it was a very sad learning, in* 
deed ! Rhino has a very, very thick skin ! It is so tough a 
skin that it won’t stretch and yield to his movements at all. 


i S 8 TELL-ME-WHY STORIES ABOUT ANIMALS 

So, in order that he could move and charge and fight, Mother 
Nature had made his great heavy skin very loose and baggy on 
him — like an old suit of clothes. And where his big legs ran 
into his body and his neck and his head and his backbone were 
fixed together, the skin lay in great folds. These folds were 
the joints in his armor. 

“One day, when Rhino was standing still, eating, and for a 
wonder, not thinking about how he hated everything else and 
wondering when he could have another fight, Rhino felt some- 
thing in the joints of his armor. It was something he had 
never felt before and he wasn’t anxious to feel it again. It 
was a sort of tickly, bity sensation — a kind of prickly, sticky 
feeling — an itchy, scratchy impression — a thrilling, tingling, 
piercing, stinging, creeping, biting, that was extremely dis- 
agreeable indeed! 

“Rhino rubbed up and down against a tree and scratched 
himself. But that didn’t do any good. Then he lay dowrn 
on the ground and rolled over and rubbed against the great 
roots of the tree. But that didn’t do any good, either. Then 
Rhino got mad — of course! — and went rushing around and 
had a fight with a wild pig and threw him head over heels 
and went charging down to the water hole to get Tiger’s son 
to fight with him — but Tiger’s son had important business else- 
where. While he was fighting, Rhino didn’t mind the tickling 
itchy bite so much, but whenever he was quiet — my, how it 
did worry him! 

“And it got worse instead of better. At first, it was just 
around his neck. But then it got in the folds in the skin next 
his forelegs and then all in the folds of his skin where his hind 
legs and big round muscular armored body were joined to- 
gether. And in a few days it seemed to Rhino that he was 
all one large itch and bite combined, and he would have cheer- 


THE BAD-TEMPERED ROSSERUS 


159 

fully fought all the elephants in the world, single-handed, he 
was so mad. 

“ T can’t get at it — oh, I can’t get at it !’ he would bellow, 
charging a tree or a bush. 'It stings, it burns, it itches, it 
scratches. Oh — u-r-r-r-rg-h !’ cried Rhino, nearly frantic. 

"Finally he had to give up trying to scratch out an itch that 
he couldn’t get at and go and hunt up Mother Nature. 

“‘What’s the matter with you?’ asked Mother Nature, 
kindly enough, considering that her erring child had said he 
hated her. 

“ ‘Itch !’ growled Rhino. ‘Scratchy itch ! Stingy bite in 
my skin. Take it off — take it out !’ 

“‘Oh-ho!’ cried Mother Nature. ‘So you have found an 
enemy you are afraid of, eh? I thought you didn’t care any- 
thing for anything?’ 

“ ‘Enemy? Enemy? I am afraid of no enemy — not even 
Elephant, although it is wiser to leave him alone. This is no 
enemy — this is an itch !’ 

“ ‘Nevertheless, it is an enemy. Your enemy. And one 
more powerful than you are.’ 

“ ‘Bring him out — let me see him — I’ll fix him !’ stormed 
Rhino, pawing the ground and ready to fight any terrible beast 
Mother Nature might produce. 

“But the ‘terrible beast’ was not terrible looking. 

“ ‘See,’ said Mother Nature, pointing to a tree. ‘See that 
little, tiny, black thing?’ 

“Rhino sidled up close to the tree and looked. He just 
could see it, and that was all. 

“ ‘Bug,’ he said. ‘Where is my enemy?’ 

“‘That bug is your enemy!’ said Mother Nature. ‘That 
bug is a Tick. It gets in the folds of your skin and lives 
there. It bites you and that makes the prickly tickle. But 


160 TELL-ME-WHY STORIES ABOUT ANIMALS 


of course an animal so strong as you are is not afraid of a 
little tiny bug!’ 

‘‘Rhino stood perfectly still. He began to get angry and 
thought he would tear down a tree or a bush or kill something. 
But then, that wouldn’t do any good. Then he thought he 
would at least kill Tick on the tree, and he rooted around on 
the bark with his horn after it. But the little Tick just 
crawled onto the horn and so on down his neck to a nice fat 
crease in his skin and added one more to Rhino’s tormentors. 

“ ‘But — but — what can I do?’ said Rhino, helplessly. T 
can’t kill these things — they are too little. I can’t get at 
them. And I can’t — I can’t live with this awful, terrible 
tickle all over me !’ 

“ ‘Ah !’ said Mother Nature. ‘So you have found out that 
you can’t live in the jungle without help. You must ask some 
bug eater to come and eat up the Ticks.’ 

“ ‘What ?’ snapped Rhino. ‘Ask help from an animal or a 
bird? Never!’ 

“ ‘Well, then,’ said Mother Nature, ‘there is only one other 
thing you can do. You can go and live in the mud and keep 
the Ticks out that way!’ 

“Rhino gave a bellow of rage and dashed off. The Ticks 
were having a fine time with him; indeed. He was a tough 
old Rhino to animals, but to a Tick he was a very tender meal 
indeed, and there was so much of him that a whole nation of 
Ticks could live on him and bring up their children, for ever 
and ever ! They didn’t care how much he charged and fought 
and scratched and bellowed. They didn’t mind it a bit. They 
just stayed down in the nice close joints in Rhino’s armor and 
ate and tickled and crawled around and had a perfectly lovely 
Tickish-tickling time! 

“Rhino dashed off through the jungle and threw himself into 


THE BAD-TEMPERED ROSSERUS 


161 


the first buffalo wallow he came to. He scared the peaceful 
Water Buffalo almost to death, and they scrambled out of their 
mud with great noises and much fear and left Rhino to the 
peaceful enjoyment of their mud. But while the mud and 
water, working into the joints in his skin, did stop the tickling, 
and mightily disturbed the Ticks, who don’t like to crawl 
around in mud and water at all, it was only a relief for a little 
while. For Rhino got mighty tired of sitting in a mud hole 
and having Water Buffalo come and look at him and listening 
to the Monkeys talking about him, and seeing all the jungle 
animals passing by and laughing at him. Besides, he was 
hungry and he was mad and he wanted to fight. 

“Rhino stood it exactly so long and no longer. Then he 
gave in and made up his mind that Mother Nature knew what 
she was talking about. 

“ There is no help for it/ admitted Rhino to himself. T 
shall have to ask a bug eater for help.’ 

“So he struggled out of the mud wallow and the noise his 
great legs made when they pulled out of the mud was like the 
popping of corks from a bottle. He crawled out onto dry 
land and went off into the jungle — stopping, you may be sure, 
every few minutes to rub himself against a tree to try to 
scratch that ticky-ticklish-tickling itch. Presently he came to 
a tree where there were a lot of Monkeys. 

“ ‘Oh, Monkey people/ cried Rhino. ‘Come down from 
the tree and help yourself to the Ticks in my skin. You are 
welcome to them/ 

“ ‘Don’t want your Ticks/ chattered the Monkeys. ‘Got 
plenty of our own/ 

“ ‘Oh, Monkey people/ pleaded Rhino. ‘Come down from 
your tree and take the Ticks away from me, and I will never 
run into your trees again.’ 


1 62 TELL-ME-WHY STORIES ABOUT ANIMALS 


“ ‘Not much !’ chattered the Monkey people. ‘You’ll get 
mad the next minute and kill us all. We have not forgotten 
how you tried to horn one of us the other day. Get rid of 
your own Ticks!’ 

“Rhino got mad, exactly as Monkey had said, and charged 
the tree and tried to tear it down. But that didn’t make his 
itch any better. 

“So he wandered off to the deep woods and to the rocks 
where the Lizards live. 

“ ‘Oh, Lizard people,’ he cried. ‘Come forth and run upon 
my back. There are many of the Ticks that you love and 
you are welcome to them all.’ 

“ ‘Don’t need your Ticks/ responded the Lizard people. 
‘It is easier to find them on the ground and among the 
rocks.’ 

“ ‘Oh, Lizard people,’ pleaded Rhinoceros. ‘Please come 
and run upon my back and eat the Ticks and I will never step 
upon one of you again.’ 

“ ‘Thank you, Mr. Rhino !’ responded the Lizard people. 
‘But you get mad so quickly, you would probably forget. We 
have not forgotten that one of us lost a tail because you 
stepped on it the other day. We are regretfully obliged to 
request you to get rid of your own Ticks !’ Lizards are very 
polite people indeed. 

“So Rhino got mad again, just as Lizard had said he would, 
and tried to break the rocks in two so he could step upon the 
Lizard people. But the Lizards only laughed lizardous 
laughs. Rock is too hard even for Rhino’s powerful horn. 

“And now Rhino didn’t know what to do. The Ticks were 
tickling and the itch was itching and the bity sensation was 
tingling and stinging. And Rhino was -nearly crazy. He ran 
from mud hole to mud hole, from tree to tree, from jungle 


THE BAD-TEMPERED ROSSERUS 163 

to river and back, always seeking help, but never finding it. 
At last he came running to Mother Nature again. 

“ ‘Please, please, Mother Nature,’ he said. ‘Help me or I 
will die — really I will. The Tick is stronger than I am. I 
cannot fight him, I cannot get rid of him, and I have no 
friends among the bug-eaters that will help me. Please, 
please , please .’ 

“Mother Nature smiled. 

“Why didn’t you say so in the first place?’ she asked. ‘You 
would have saved yourself a lot of pain and trouble. You 
haven’t tried the birds, have you?’ 

“ ‘Birds — birds ? Those flappy things that fly and make 
squawky noises? No, I haven’t. What can they do?’ 

“ ‘Birds eat bugs,’ answered Mother Nature. ‘And if you 
will keep your temper, there is a bird who will help you.’ 

“ ‘I will keep my temper,’ promised Rhino. T will, indeed 
I will!’ 

“So Mother Nature chirruped a little silver birdlike chirrup, 
and down from a tree flew half a dozen little Birds. 

“ ‘That,’ said Mother Nature, showing them, ‘is Rhinoceros. 
He has a bad temper, a thick hide, a horn, and is very strong 
— and he has no friends. He is afraid of no animal and will 
fight anything any time. Everything that lives is his enemy, 
and he doesn’t care — except for Ticks! The Ticks have got- 
ten into the joints in his skin and he is very sad. But he tells 
me that if you will help him with his Ticks, he will give you a 
home and a full meal any time you want it, and never do you 
any harm.’ 

“The little Birds twittered among themselves. Then, 
timidly enough, for they are gentle creatures and Rhino looked 
very terrible, they flew to him and lit upon his back. Rhino 
quivered all over. He would have gone crazy mad had a 


1 64 TELL-ME-WHY STORIES ABOUT ANIMALS 

Bird dare speak to him, let alone sit on him, a week before. 
But now he kept perfectly quiet. The little Birds walked up 
and down his back, looking. Presently, one of them gave a 
dart with her little beak, and — presto! — one Tick less on 
Rhino’s back. Another Bird came and joined the first Bird. 
She, too, gave a swift peck and — presto again ! Another Tick 
gone to feed the hungry inside of the Bird. Soon all the 
Birds were pecking away at the cracks and creases in Rhino’s 
skin and he was sitting as quietly under it as if he was a rock. 
My, how good it did feel, to be sure! He couldn’t see, but 
he could feel those Ticks being gobbled up, and though he 
wanted mightily to go and scratch himself and then to fight 
something, he was too sensible. 

“ ‘Now I’ve made some friends for you,’ said Mother Na- 
ture, one finger raised in warning. ‘See that you keep 
them.’ 

“And Rhino did see that he kept them. He has some sense, 
after all. The little Birds, finding that Rhino really did not 
mean them any harm, stayed with him, and brought up their 
families, if not on Rhino’s back, at least upon Rhino’s Ticks. 
And to this day we call these little Birds Rhinoceros Birds, 
because every Rhinoceros has half a dozen or more that fol- 
low him everywhere, eating up his Ticks, clinging to his tough 
skin with their claws, and ridding him of that pesky tickish- 
ticklish-tickle that so nearly sent him crazy. 

“The Rhinoceros Birds, living with Rhino the way they 
do, have come to do more for him than merely eat up his tor- 
mentors — his conquerors. For they have as keen eyesight as 
his is poor, and let any enemy approach, whether it be Lion or 
Tiger or Elephant or Python or whatever, and all the Rhi- 
noceros Birds will flap their wings and twitter warning 
twitters and then Rhino knows that there is trouble brewing. 



The Little Birds . . . flew to him and lit upon his back 











































































































































THE BAD-TEMPERED ROSSERUS 165 

He gets up from his mud wallow — for he still goes into the 
mud at times — and gets ready for a regular old time good 
rough and tumble fight, when he can get as mad as he pleases 
and behave just as badly as he wants to, sure that, when he 
gets through, whether he is victor or vanquished, he will have 
one set of friends left, anyway, in the little Rhinoceros 
Birds. 

“And now you know, Little Man o' Mine, why the ‘Ros- 
serus’ has a horn and an ugly black skin and a wicked eye and 
a bad temper and little birds upon him. When the men in 
the Museum stuffed the skin of a Rhinoceros to make it look 
a live one, and put it in a glass case for you to go and look at, 
they got some Rhinoceros Birds to go with it, and stuffed them, 
and set them about upon his broad back, to show you and all 
others who go to the Museum, just how a Rhinoceros really 
looks, and to prove that, bad tempered, ugly beast though he 
is, he still has one friend among living things besides his own 
kind. 

“And that is the very endmost end of that story.” 

“Thank you, Old Pops,” sighed Carlie-boy. “But please 
tell me why — ” 

Old Pops held up one finger, warningly. 

“Bargain — bargain!” he cried. “One story about one ani- 
mal and no more 'tell me why's’ to-night !” 

“I forgot!” said Carlie-boy, contritely. 

Then he kissed his Old Pops and slid off his Middlemost 
Middle. He ran upstairs quickly, and knocked on Mother’s 
door. 

“Please, Mamma,” he said, when she told him to come in, 
“won’t you take me down to the stuffed animal place again 
to-morrow? I want to see old bad tempered Rhino and the 
Rhi-no-cer-os Birds again.” 


1 66 TELL-ME-WHY STORIES ABOUT ANIMALS 


“But you have just seen them!” cried Mamma. “What do 
you want to see them again for ?” 

“I want to see if the men in the Museum knew as much 
about Rhino as Old Pops does,” and Carlie-boy was very im- 
portant looking indeed. “I want to see if they fixed up that 
stuffed Rosser — Rhi-no-cer-os, I mean — the right way.” 

“Why, I don’t understand,” said Mamma. “I am sure the 
men knew how the Rhinoceros should be fixed the right way. 
Did you see anything wrong with the way they had stuffed 
him and put him in the glass case?” 

“No,” admitted Carlie-boy, “I didn’t. But I didn’t know 
what to look for, then. So I want to go and look again.” 

“What is it you want to see that you didn’t see to-day ?” in- 
quired Mamma. 

“Want to see if they put any stuffed Ticks on Rhi-no- 
cer-os,” said Carlie-boy, seriously, and he doesn’t know yet 
why Mamma laughed so and promised to take him again, very 
soon! 


The Story of Big Striped Terror and the Heavy Stone, of 
Wau and the Fence of Boughs, of Little Striped Terror 
and His Lesson, and of the Capturing of Shah 

44 TV T OW, let’s go to the Monkey House!” cried Carlie- 
boy, tugging at his old Pops’ hand. 

“But we have been to the Monkey House!” objected Old 
Pops. 

“What difference does that make?” demanded Carlie-boy. 
“They will be doing something else, won’t they, than what 
they did before?” 

“Very probably,” sighed Old Pops. “Monkeys are always 
interesting.” 

So they went to the Monkey House. 

“Now,” announced Carlie-boy, when they had fed the big 
monkey peanuts and watched the little monkeys chase their 
tails and the medium sized monkeys hanging from their swings 
making faces at Carlie-boy, “let us go to the Bears’ Den.” 

“But we have been to the Bears’ Den,” cried Old Pops. 

“What difference does that make?” protested Carlie-boy. 
“Don’t you suppose maybe perhaps they will be going to feed 
them when we go back ? I’ve never seen a bear fed !” 

“Neither have I !” agreed Old Pops. 

So they went to the Bears’ Den. 

“Now,” said Carlie-boy, after they had watched the big 
bear take a walk, and the little bears sit on their hind legs, 
and the medium sized bears climb a tree, and had waited in 
vain for a keeper to come and feed them, “let’s go to the Lion 
and Tiger House!” 


167 


1 68 TELL-ME-WHY STORIES ABOUT ANIMALS 


“But, my beloved offspring,” declaimed Old Pops, “are we 
to go from house to house, from cage to cage, from den to 
den, over and over and over again? We have been to the 
Lion and Tiger House. And we have been twice to the 
Bears’ Den and twice to the Monkey House and we have spent 
more than two solid hours parading around this Zoological 
Park and now — ” 

“What difference does that make?” inquired Carlie-boy. 
“I didn’t hear the Tiger roar when I was there before — nor 
the Lion didn’t bite any one.” 

“True — true!” sadly agreed Old Pops. “But wait a min- 
ute. If we go to the Lion and Tiger House again, then when 
we get through there, zve-go-home ! Is it a bargain?” 

“A’right!” said Carlie-boy, playing he was a monkey and 
eating peanuts very fast. 

So they went to the Lion and Tiger House. 

Shah, the Tiger, was very obliging. It was feeding time, 
and the Lions were roaring, and the Panther was squalling, 
and the Hyena was making terrible laughing noises, and the 
little Wild Cat was meauwing, and the Leopards were making 
leopardous-noises, and Shah opened his mouth and let out a 
yell that made Carlie-boy jump one foot seven and a half 
inches. Old Pops only jumped nine and two-thirds inches, 
but then he is bigger than Carlie-boy. 

“Gracious!” cried Pops, closing his fingers on somebody’s 
small hand that came sneaking into his. “That was a very 
rude remark indeed !” 

“What was?” asked Carlie-boy. 

“Why, what Shah said! Didn’t you hear him? He said 
for all the rest of the animals to shut up. He said he was 
Shah, King of the Jungle, and lonely for his far off home, and 
he didn’t care if they were hungry. He was a lot hungrier, 


BIG STRIPED TERROR 169 

and by the stripes upon his back and the pads upon his feet, 
he didn’t care two yowls and a full meal who knew it 1” 

“Why, Pops!” cried Carlie-boy, delighted. “Do you under- 
stand Shah’s tiger language?” 

“I cannot truthfully and in upright rectitude protest that I 
do,” Old Pops made answer, using a lot of foolish words for 
the pure fun of it. “It would be an evasion and fictitious, not 
to say a fabrication, falsification and perversion of the eternal 
verities if I proclaimed myself a Professor of the language 
of Felis Tigris. But it seemed very plain to me what the 
striped gentleman in the cage before us was attempting to 
elucidate and I judged the throbbing emotions of his secret 
heart from the dulcet tones of his charming vocalization !” 

“Uh-huh!” said Carlie-boy. “He is very strong, isn’t he?” 

“Stronger than any ten men,” agreed Old Pops. 

“And he has terrible sharp claws and big teeth, hasn’t he?” 

“Sharp enough to tear one in pieces, and teeth big enough to 
bite one’s head off,” replied Old Pops. 

“Then,” said Carlie-boy, “how did they ever get Shah in 
that cage ? If he is stronger than men and can bite their heads 
off and tear them to pieces, how did they catch him ?” 

“Oh — they caught him in the jungle,” said Old Pops, hurry- 
ing in his speech. “Look over there and see that lion scratch- 
ing himself.” 

“What is it like in the jungle and how did they catch him?” 
persisted Carlie-boy. “Tell me why he — ” 

“I thought so!” sighed Old Pops. “I was afraid of it. 
You were too busy looking the first time we went around to 
these houses to ask questions, but the second time I knew there 
would be a ‘tell-me-why’ before we got through!” and Old 
Pops shook his head sadly. 

“Never mind !” consoled Carlie-boy. “I won’t ask a single 


170 


TELL-ME-WHY STORIES ABOUT ANIMALS 


thing about the Monkeys and the Bear and the Elephant and 
the Camel and the Kangaroo and the Seal and the Rhinoceros 
and the Alligator and the Ostrich and the Llama and the Yak 
and the Buffalo and the Leopard and the Lion and the — and — 
and the other things. Just tell me why Shah let himself get 
captured and why he didn’t bite his way out of the cage and 
who captured him and how he liked having his head bitten off 
and where was it done and when was it done and how was it 
done and who did it and — ” 

“Exactly!” agreed Old Pops. “And all the rest of it!” 

“Well, tell me !” persisted Carlie-boy. 

“I couldn’t tell you — here. Shah might hear me!” 

“Now, Pops! You know he couldn’t understand you!” 

“Couldn’t he?” asked Old Pops. “Well, let’s wait until we 
get in the car going home and there isn’t any Shah-tiger 
around.” 

Carlie-boy considered for a moment. Then — 

“Pops,” he said. “Are there any tigers that aren’t in cages 
around here?” 

“Not a single tiger,” laughed Old Pops. “If there were, 
I shouldn’t want to be where I could meet him !” 

“I’m glad of that;!” said Carlie-boy. “Can’t you begin the 
story now?” 

“Let’s wait until we go,” repeated Old Pops. “It’ll be much 
nicer.” 

“A’ right!” agreed Carlie-boy. 

So they finished looking at all the wild animals in the Lion 
and Tiger House in the big Zoological Park and then went out 
to the little automobile and made ready to go home. It was 
getting dusk, and Old Pops let Carlie-boy turn on the electric 
headlights and they made two shafts of light cutting through 
the darkness. It was all dimmy-shadowy-darky-lonesome 


BIG STRIPED TERROR 


171 

through the woods, and Carlie-boy did all but sit on Old 
Pops’ lap. He couldn’t sit quite all on it because there isn’t 
room under the steering wheel. 

“Now,” said Carlie-boy, “tell me about Shah — only — 
only — ” 

“Well?” asked Old Pops, smiling in the dark. 

“Only you are sure there aren’t any tigers around here, 
aren’t you?” 

“Perfectly sure !” said Old Pops. “They don’t live in this 
country at all, except in Zoos and Circuses.” 

“A’right,” agreed Carlie-boy again, but holding on to his 
father just the same. “Begin.” 

So Old Pops began the story of Big Striped Terror and the 
Heavy Stone, of Wau and the Fence of Boughs, of Little 
Striped Terror and his Lesson, and of the Capturing of Shah. 

“You remember the story of Nudin and the Swift-Swift,” 
he began, “and how the Tribe of Uzzi chose a leader. And 
perhaps you remember that Nudin lay upon a pile of skins in 
front of Great- Warm-Fear and that when the people of the 
Tribe of Uzzi were cold, they used skins to put around them 
to keep warm. 

“You may also remember that in the story of Bones-* 
Thrown-in-the-Firelight and of Duggee, the first dog, the 
position of Fire Tender was one of great honor, because upon 
the keeping up of the fire depended the safety of the Tribe 
from the great wild beasts which crawled and prowled and 
yowled around seeking a nice tender man for supper whenever 
they could get him. 

“But you mustn’t think that the people of the Tribe of Uzzi 
did nothing but sit around a fire and cower away from the 
woods and the jungle in terror. If the wild animals tried to 
eat them, they ate the wild animals. If the tigers and the bears 


172 TELL-ME-WHY STORIES ABOUT ANIMALS 

tried to break up their homes in caves in the rocks and put 
terror in their hearts, they, the men, succeeded often in catch- 
ing and killing Bear and Tiger. 

“Of course, compared to the big animals, the men, even the 
strong, lithe and swift men of that far, far off time, long be- 
fore the very first beginnings of what we call civilized life, 
were not strong at all. The strongest of them all, though he 
could break a thick branch with his two hands and run almost 
as fast as a horse and hurl a stone or a spear twice as far as 
any man of to-day, was very weak compared to Tiger or 
Bear. In a single handed fight with either of these great 
beasts, a man wouldn’t have any chance at all ! 

“But Mother Nature gave to men something she gave to no 
other living thing — and that is a mind which can remember 
what has happened, and which can plan what is going to hap- 
pen. Weak as he was in arms and legs and body compared to 
Tiger, man’s mind made him more than a match for Tiger’s 
massive strength, even in the far off time when men dressed 
in skins and lived in caves. 

“So it happened that one day when Wau was out hunting, 
and Tiger chased him, and he escaped by diving head first 
off a bank into a deep river, and had to swim a long ways, 
and got all tired out, and only saved himself from drowning 
by catching and holding on to a friendly branch which came 
drifting down, Wau got very angry with Tiger. 

“ ‘Too much Striped Terror in these woods,’ cried Wau, 
shaking his spear angrily that night about the lighted circle 
of Great- Warm-Fear. ‘ Striped Terror run, run fast. Wau, 
Wau run fast, too. Striped Terror make hungry noises and 
his big feet jump, jump far and high. Almost he jumped on 
top of Wau, but Wau flew, like Big Bird, from land to 
Father River, and then, like Fish, wriggled to where Father 


BIG STRIPED TERROR 


173 


River is deep, deep. Wau very tired and his spirit come pant, 
pant, pant, like this. (All the ancient people called their 
breath ‘spirit’). Tree came swimming down Father River — 
Wau catch Tree and Tree swim, like Fish, to land again. 

“ ‘Now I say/ and Wau shook his spear again, ‘by Tree 
which swam Wau to shore, and by long, sharp teeth in Striped 
Terror’s eating hole, Wau will catch and kill Striped Terror 
and his skin shall be for sleeping in light of Great- Warm- 
Fear.’ 

“ ‘It is good!’ answered Yanri, leader of the tribe of which 
Wau was a member. ‘To-morrow we will work.’ 

“ ‘It is good — it is good !’ came a deep throated chorus from 
all the savage, hairy men about Great- Warm-Fear. ‘To-mor- 
row we will work.’ 

“Then I suppose they all went to sleep — all except the 
Keeper of Great-Warm-Fear, that is — and slept soundly and 
happily just as if they were not going out on the morrow to 
work and try to catch and kill Striped Terror. 

“So on the next day all the men, with Wau and Yanri lead- 
ing them, took their spears and their sharp stones and some 
cords made of plaited grass and went off into the woods and 
worked. Fifteen of the men carried a heavy stone; that is, 
they rolled it and dragged it and pushed it and pulled it, until 
they got to the very edge of the woodsy- jungle. Then they 
all got hold of it and picked it up and set it on a frame work 
of poles. And they carried it — the frame work with the great 
heavy stone on it — into the jungle to the place where they were 
going to work. And the stone wasn’t all they took into the 
jungle. One of the men carried a young sheep, his legs tied 
together, and a cord about his mouth, so he couldn’t say loudly, 
in sheep language, how much he objected to being tied up! 
They worked all day long. Half of them stood on guard, 


i 7 4 TELL-ME-WHY STORIES ABOUT ANIMALS 

with their spears all ready, while the other half worked in 
the woods, near a pool where Striped Terror usually came to 
drink. They knew where it was because Striped Terror had 
left great pad-pad marks all around. 

" ‘Look, look !’ cried Wau, suddenly, pointing. 'Striped 
Terror has little ones!’ 

"All the tribe came and looked. It was just as Wau had 
said. There were several little pad-pad marks along with the 
big pad-pad marks. But Yanri raised his hand. 

" 'Not little ones — little one/ he said, and then showed Wau 
and the rest that there were only the tracks of one Little 
Striped Terror with those of the mother — the great Striped 
Terror they were to catch. 

" 'Get both — kill both !’ cried Wau, shaking his spear. 
'Little Striped Terror grows to be Big Striped Terror. Kill 
both/ 

" 'Ai — ai — ai !’ cried all the men. 'Kill both !’ 

"So they worked and worked and worked, and then one of 
them went swiftly and fetched the young sheep. He untied 
its legs and mouth and tied it to a post, and, looking fearfully 
over their shoulders, the hairy men scurried away. For the 
sun was going down and the darky-dim shadows were coming 
out from under the bushes and the trees, and there were 
strange noises all about and they didn’t like it. No, indeed, 
they didn’t like it, these strong, hairy, wild men, for it is not 
good to be in the deep woods when the darky-dim shadows 
come creep-creeping out and strange, wild eyes look savagely 
through the leaves, and jaws and claws are close behind. 

"The tribe of men with Wau and Yanri came away from 
the woodsy- jungle, and with many a backward look over their 
shoulders, and ears that heard many sounds beside the bleat- 
ing of the tied-up sheep, hurried back to the Place of Sleeping, 


BIG STRIPED TERROR 175 

where Great- Warm-Fear threw out his protecting and cheerful 
rays.” 

“But,” interrupted Carlie-boy, “what did the tribe of men 
do in the woodsy-jungle?” 

“Ah !” cried Old Pops, steering around a rut in the road and 
honking his horn for the curve ahead. “That is exactly what 
Big Striped Terror wanted to know. Of course, she had 
known the men were there all the time. It was Big Striped 
Terror’s business to know what was going on in the jungle 
which was her home, and where she was bringing up Little 
Striped Terror to be a good tiger and learn how to pounce 
upon things to eat and to tear them in two and to carry them to 
the strange and rather smelly home in the hole under the 
bank. But Big Striped Terror knew better than to attack a 
whole tribe of men at once. One man, two men, ten men, 
perhaps, if it was necessary. But a hundred men, each with 
the sharp pointed stick, the end of which had been burned in 
Great- Warm-Fear and so become hard as stone — no! That 
would not be wise and Big Striped Terror told Little Striped 
Terror so in so many growls and purrs. 

“But now it was darky-dark and the stars were winking 
out above and showing through the leaves, and the moon 
was coming up, and the men had gone back to their den where 
Great-Warm-Fear, that terrible, bright and shining thing 
which neither Big Striped Terror nor any other animal under- 
stands, protected them. Big Striped Terror would go and see 
what the men had been doing. 

“So with Little Striped Terror at her side, she pad-padded 
through the woods. Her black and yellow stripes blended 
in with the black shadows of the jungle and yellow moonlight 
that came fluttering through the leaves. Little Striped Terror 
crept along all sneaky-catty-slidy-wormy by his mothers side. 


1 76 TELL-ME-WHY STORIES ABOUT ANIMALS 

Two pairs of yellow eyes gleamed softly in the starlight, 
seeing the jungle as plainly as your eyes would in the day — 
for that is one of Mother Nature’s gifts to the cat family — 
this ability to see in the dimmy-darkness as well as in the 
brighty-day. Little Striped Terror stopped and looked at his 
mother. There was a smell of Deer in the air and Deer’s 
footprints plainly to be seen. 

“ ‘No,’ growled Big Striped Terror. ‘Let us go and see 
what the men have been doing. Dinner can wait. Always 
go, look, see, when you don’t understand anything, little one 
of mine, because you never can tell what is what until you 
know it, and the jungle is full of perils even for you and me.’ 

“So Little Striped Terror and Big Striped Terror crept, 
cat-like, along, sneaky-crawly, slidy-writhy, making never a 
sound. And all the jungle kept silence and watched, with 
hundreds of eyes. Monkey in tree, Wolf in his rocky den, 
Jackal slinking behind a tree, Rabbit from under a bush, all 
kept as still as still, for Big Striped Terror was abroad and 
it is better not to be noticed when she treads the jungle paths. 

“But there was one animal who did not keep still. That 
was the sheep tied to the stake the men had planted deep into 
the ground. The poor sheep didn’t know anything about 
jungles. He had never seen Big Striped Terror. He was 
used to grazing out in the plains near the river and to follow- 
ing his brothers and sisters, and he hadn’t any sense anyway. 
So he lifted up his voice and wept plaintive sheep weeps, be- 
cause he was tied to a stake in the dark, and there were 
strange smells around him and no grass to eat and it was very 
disagreeable. 

“ ‘That is funny,’ said Big Striped Terror to Little Striped 
Terror. ‘Something is not keeping quiet. We will go and 
look.’ 


BIG STRIPED TERROR 


1 77 


“So they went and looked, and if they had crawled quietly 
and snakily and twisty-wisty through the jungle, they were 
now twice as quiet and three times as snaky and seven and 
two-thirds times as twisty-wisty as before, because they didn’t 
know what the sheepy-bleaty-weepy noise might be. And 
it might be something good to eat and then again it might be 
some strange and terrible animal they never saw which wasn’t 
afraid to make a noise when the Striped Terrors were walking 
about. 

“But as soon as she saw it, Big Striped Terror sat down on 
her hind legs and curled her long striped tail about her until 
all of it was quiet except just the waving tip of its endmost 
end, and licked her whiskers and purred a mighty tiger purr ! 

“‘Will it bite?’ asked Little Striped Terror, crawling up 
close to his mother and looking at the strange white animal 
that made such a funny noise. 

“ ‘Bite ? No ! But we will bite it !’ purred Big Striped Ter- 
ror. ‘I know what it is. It is a foolish animal with lots of 
fur. But it is good inside. Those men have left it here.’ 

“‘Why have they left it here?’ asked Little Striped Terror, 
curiously. 

“ ‘I don’t know. They have left it. That is the main 
thing!’ answered Big Striped Terror. ‘Now, watch me. I 
will show you how to give a jump and a bound and land upon 
the crying animal’s neck. Then we will eat.’ 

“So Little Striped Terror sat on his hind legs and watched 
while Big Striped Terror prepared to jump. She crouched 
low upon the ground and uncurled her long striped tail and 
wiggled her feet and dug them into the earth to get a good toe 
hold and her tail quivered and her mouth opened and shut and 
the water ran out and the sheep was so scared he bleated twice 
as loud as before. Then, with a mighty jump, Big Striped 


178 TELL-ME-WHY STORIES ABOUT ANIMALS 

Terror sprang. It was a most curious spring. T j have seen 
it would have been to see something few men have ever seen. 
For in the very middle of her mighty jump, Big Striped Terror 
saw something she hadn’t noticed. And so she checked her 
jump and instead of arching through the air in a graceful 
bow, she went straight up in the air and came right back where 
she started. 

“ ‘What’s the matter?’ asked Little Striped Terror, watch- 
ing curiously. 

“ ‘Boughs!’ answered Big Striped Terror. ‘They have set 
boughs all around him. That is very curious.’ 

“So Big Striped Terror began to walk about the tied-up 
sheep, looking at the boughs. They were really poles and they 
formed a sort of fence about the tied sheep. Big Striped 
Terror walked around and around, until she was all the way 
around. 

“ ‘It is very curious,’ she purred again. ‘The foolish men 
have tied the crying animal inside a fence of boughs. They 
didn’t want me to eat it. But they are so foolish they left 
one place open so I can get in. I can’t spring in, but I can 
walk in. Oh, foolish men !’ 

“ ‘Oh, very, very foolish men!’ agreed Little Striped Terror. 
‘Hurry, Mother, I am hungry. The crying animal smells 
meaty-good.’ 

“So Big Striped Terror hurried. She walked around the 
little fence of poles again until she came to the opening the 
foolish men had left. She didn’t notice a pole hanging down 
from above, or if she noticed it, she thought it was just another 
piece of the foolish men’s folly. 

“She went creep, creeping, into the little enclosure, and the 
sheep tied fast to the stake in the center bleated and cried 
louder than ever. 



■twice as quiet and three times as snaky and seven and two-thirds 
times as twisty-wisty as before 





















































































BIG STRIPED TERROR 


179 


“ ‘Now, watch/ purred Mamma Striped Terror, and she 
raised one mighty paw to strike the poor little sheep and kill it. 

“Little Striped Terror watched. 

“But what he saw made him jump up and spit and cry out 
and every hair on his black and yellow sides rose on end with 
fright. For as she crawled in, Mother Striped Terror struck 
the pole hanging down from above. There was a smashing 
crash, a heavy thud, and a shrieking cry of pain and terror and 
anguish and rage that echoed through the jungle and sent a 
thousand animals scurrying for their homes. 

“Down through the darky-dimness of the leaves above, 
crashed the heavy stone the foolish men had dragged into the 
jungle — down onto the back of Big Striped Terror, struck 
down just as she was going to strike the bleating sheep. It 
was a very heavy stone, indeed, and it fell with a terrible 
thud, and Big Striped Terror lay where she had fallen, her 
back broken, her side heaving, her eyes glazing, and bitter rage 
and pain in her heart. 

“ ‘Listen!' she cried to Little Striped Terror. ‘Listen, and 
remember. It was not the men who were foolish — it was I, 
your mother. The fence of boughs was a trap. The trap has 
struck me and — I go to the long sleep. Remember, oh little 
striped son of mine, never, never, never go inside a fence of 
boughs — it is — it — never — never — mrea-ough — ough — ough !’ 

“And Big Striped Terror was dead. * 

“When the men came the next morning, they laughed. 
The trap had worked beautifully. The heavy stone, poised 
above on a frame of boughs, had been fixed so that when one 
hanging stick was touched, it fell straight down. The fence 
was to make Big Striped Terror try to get the tied sheep from 
the place where she had to touch the hanging bough — the 
trigger of the trap. And foolish Big Striped Terror had done 


180 TELL-ME-WHY STORIES ABOUT ANIMALS 


it — and there she lay, squashed flat as flat could be, her terrible 
paws limp, her great teeth harmless, her strength gone. 

“ ‘Good, very good!’ cried Wau. 'But where is Little 
Striped Terror?’ 

‘"Where, indeed, is Little Striped Terror?’ echoed Yanri, 
and ‘Where, where indeed, is Little Striped Terror?’ asked all 
the men. 

“But Little Striped Terror was gone. 

“ ‘Well, never mind !’ cried Wau. ‘Some other day !’ 

“Then they fell upon Big Striped Terror and rolled the 
heavy stone off her and took her body out and skinned the 
skin off it to make into a robe for the Place of Sleeping, just 
as Wau had said. And the Jackal and the Hyena and the 
Wolf and the carrion birds ate the rest, and that was the end 
of Big Striped Terror. 

“But it was not the end of Little Striped Terror. For with 
his own eyes he had seen his mother enter a fence and watched 
the heavy stone come down from the trees. He had heard her 
with her last breath warn him to beware of fences of boughs. 

“And something of the rage and terror of his mother’s 
last cry as she gasped her life out in a warning entered his 
heart and perhaps he vowed a tiger vow that he would never 
be caught as Big Striped Terror had been. However that 
may be, Little Striped Terror hid from the haunts of the wild 
men, and grew up alone, in the deep jungle, killing cattle, 
deer, wild hog and some birds, like pea fowl, for food, angry 
always, and avoiding anything that even looked like a fence of 
poles. 

“In the course of time, Little Striped Terror became a Big 
Striped Terror. He was ten feet long from the tip of his nose 
to the tip of his long striped tail. He was a beautiful faun 
brown color with dark, almost black stripes, and underneath 


BIG STRIPED TERROR 


181 


his body and under his throat, he was almost white. He was 
very strong and very fierce. He swam the river in chasing 
deer and sometimes climbed a tree after a monkey, but never 
unless he was very hungry indeed, because he didn’t like to 
climb — it was too hard work ! 

“After a while, he met a Mrs. Big Striped Terror and had 
several Little Striped Terrors of his own. And these Little 
Striped Terrors were told about the fence of boughs, and that it 
must be avoided, and they remembered it. A tiger mother is a 
very devoted mother indeed. She teaches her children how to 
kill, and how to crawl through the jungle, and if she is at- 
tacked while her children are around, my, how she will fight ! 
In her savage heart is a great love for her striped, kitten-like 
children, and even Elephant and Rhinoceros and Wild Bull 
give her plenty of room when she travels with her little 
ones. Her children, however, grew up, as children will, and 
they met Mrs. Striped Terrors of their own and had Little 
Striped Terrors to look after, and so on, and so on, for hun- 
dreds and hundreds and hundreds of years. Of course, during 
all this time, occasionally a Striped Terror would enter a 
‘deadfall/ as that kind of a trap has come to be called, and 
get all squashed up with a big rock. That was just one more 
lesson for the other Striped Terrors. But because they are so 
wild and so strong and consequently hunted so much, and be- 
cause they remember pretty well, a tiger has come to be a 
very, very, very wary kind of cat indeed, and it is very seldom 
that he can be killed with a deadfall trap, even in the far 
countries where he lives all over the place.” 

“But what’s that got to do with Shah ?” Carlie-boy wanted to 
know, reaching over and honking the horn for the fun of 
making a noise. “He didn’t get caught in a fence of boughs 
and yet he’s in a cage!” 


1 82 TELL-ME-WHY STORIES ABOUT ANIMALS 


“That’s just the point!” cried Old Pops, turning off the big 
headlights as they entered the city. “Shah was the Little 
Striped Terror of a Mr. and Mrs. Big Striped Terror that lived 
in far off India. This particular pair of Striped Terrors were 
very, very wicked Striped Terrors indeed. You must know 
that in the little villages in this part of India, the houses are 
made of poles and thatched with straw. The streets are 
narrow, the people are poor and ignorant, and they don’t know 
much about fighting great animals like tigers. Mr. and Mrs. 
Striped Terror knew this, and so, whenever they wanted some- 
thing to eat, they came down to the village and frightened 
every one indoors and then proceeded to kill a cow and drag 
it away for a meal. And sometimes, I am afraid, they were 
not content with a cow, but dragged off a man or a child, 
getting into the flimsy houses with one blow of a strong right 
paw. 

“Well, the poor people of the village didn’t know what to do. 
Of course, they tried to trap Mr. and Mrs. Striped Terror. I 
don’t know whether they tried a deadfall trap, or just a cage 
of poles with a door which would shut when the live sheep 
in the trap was touched by a tiger. For a grown tiger, if it 
can be captured, can be sold to people who want to carry him 
to Zoos and Circuses. The poor people of the village had no 
idea what a Zoo or a Circus might be, but they did know that 
a live tiger would be bought, and that even a dead tiger had 
his uses, for his skin could be taken off him and sold for enough 
to buy several bowls of rice. 

“But this Mr. and Mrs. Striped Terror were too well taught 
by their parents, just as their parents had been taught by their 
parents, about the disagreeable things that happened when you 
went into a fence made out of poles. They kept away from 
all such things, partly by looking and partly by smelling, and 


BIG STRIPED TERROR 183 

gradually, I have no doubt, came to look on the little village 
as their very own and particular feeding ground! 

“ However, a messenger had been sent to the city, many miles 
away. 

“ 'Great tigers here/ the message ran. 'Eat cattle and steal 
men and children. Please come with guns and shoot !’ 

"In course of time the messenger reached the city and told 
a man who liked to shoot tigers. And the man promptly 
packed up some guns and traveled to the village and engaged 
some servants to carry these guns. He found all the people of 
the village just trembling with fright, for Mr. and Mrs. Tiger 
had just been there and carried off two cows; and it wasn’t 
easy to get servants, but at last he managed to hire some men. 

"They took the guns and followed the tracks of Mr. and 
Mrs. Tiger. The man had seven servants when he started. 
But one of them went lame, and another forgot something, and 
the third had a pain in his stomach, and the fourth forgot to 
get a drink before he left and went back after it, and the 
fifth decided it was too hot to hunt tigers, and the sixth 
thought it looked like rain (though there wasn’t a cloud in the 
sky and it hadn’t rained for months) and finally the seventh 
just dodged behind a tree and ran away ! They were not very 
brave, these servants ! 

"The man was mad. He had paid these men to carry his 
guns, and now they were all gone, and the guns also, except 
the one he carried. But the man was as brave as his gun 
bearers were cowardly and he determined that as he had come 
out to shoot tigers, tigers he was going to shoot! It was a 
foolish thing to decide, because if he missed, it would be very 
sad indeed! But the man was mad. So he went ahead, 
tracking the Mr. and Mrs. Tiger through the jungle easily 
enough because they had dragged the cows and stopped to eat 


184 TELL-ME-WHY STORIES ABOUT ANIMALS 

them and they left great pad marks anyway. And at last he 
came to a place where the marks stopped and went down into 
a great hole under a tree ! 

“The man promptly took off his shirt, tore it into strips, 
tied the strips into a long rope, tied the rope around his gun, 
and climbed a tree. Then he hauled his gun up after him. 

“It was hot in the tree. There were lots of bugs and they 
bothered him. It wasn't comfortable, either, sitting on a limb, 
up there in the rustling leaves with a possible tiger or so 
down below. But the man was brave and the man was bold 
and the man was mad as mad could be. Besides, he had 
started to hunt tigers, and he was the kind of man who fin- 
ished what he started to do. So he sat in the tree all day and 
he sat in the tree all night and the bugs bit him and his legs 
got cramped and he was hungry and thirsty and the more he 
was bitten and the more hungry and thirsty he was, the madder 
he became. It was, altogether, a pretty long night. But it 
came to an end after a while. The next morning, just when 
it was half light and half darky-dim, the man had his reward 
for all his discomfort. There was a great striped something 
crawling out of the hole, and after it another great striped 
something, and finally a little, little, tiny striped something — a 
real little baby tiger. 

“The man forgot about the bugs and the hard limbs and his 
cramped legs and his hungry stomach and his dry-as-dust 
mouth. He put his gun to his shoulder and his hand was 
steady and his eyes blazed. And then — ” 

“Yes — yes ?” cried Carlie-boy. “And then ?” 

“And then there were two ‘bang-bangs’ in the still air, and 
one tiger was writhing on the ground, and the other made one 
terrible leap in the air, and Mr. and Mrs. Striped Terror 
would kill no more cows! 


BIG STRIPED TERROR 


185 


“The man climbed stiffly down from the tree. He sat down 
on one Striped Terror, and put his foot on the other, and 
lighted his pipe, which he hadn’t dared to do all night because 
it might warn the tigers that he was in the tree. And when 
his cowardly servants came sneaking back, to see if perhaps the 
tigers had killed him — in which case they would steal his guns 
— why, there he was, sitting on two tigers and with a little 
tiny tiger playing awkwardly around his mother and father 
and not understanding why they lay so still. 

“The cowardly servants wanted to kill the little striped 
tiger kitten, but the man waved his hand and they stopped. 

“ 'The skins of the tigers are mine,’ he said. 'The little 
striped tiger I will sell to the man who buys him. The money 
I get for it I will give to the people whose cows the tigers 
ate.’ 

“At this there was great rejoicing, for a little, live baby 
tiger is worth even more than a big tiger, because it can be 
carried so much more easily. 

“So they made a sort of cage out of boughs and put it on 
poles, and put the little striped tiger kitten in it — and how he 
did fight and scratch, to be sure! For his mother and father 
had told him to beware of cages, just as their mothers and 
fathers and their great-great-great grandmothers and grand- 
fathers had told them, away back in the time of Wau and the 
heavy stone. But the little tiger cub found he wasn’t being 
hurt, and he was very young, anyway, and probably forgot. 
At any rate, they carried him to the city and he was sold to the 
animal men and the money given to the people whose cows his 
mother and father had eaten. Then they put the little striped 
tiger in a real cage and hoisted him on a ship and carried him 
thousands of miles across the sea and he was very seasick. 

“The tiger you saw to-day, who is named Shah, is that self- 


1 86 TELL-ME-WHY STORIES ABOUT ANIMALS 


same tiger kitten. That is the way almost all tigers are 
captured for use in circuses and zoos — by being taken when 
they are tiny tiger cubs or kittens, and after their mothers 
or their fathers have been shot. For grown up tigers are too 
wary for a trap and too strong to be caught any other way. 

“You needn’t feel sorry for Mr. and Mrs. Striped Terror 
who were shot. They were murderers, and killed innocent 
cows and people. But the little striped tiger has done no 
one any harm because he hasn’t had a chance. He has grown 
up in his iron cage and probably has forgotten the strange 
wild days when he lived in a hole under a tree and had a mother 
and father who brought home red meat for him to eat. But 
once in a while I suspect he dreams strange dreams, and then 
he roars and yells and tells every one that he is Shah, the King 
of the Jungle, and they must shut up because he is hungry 
and lonely for his far off home.” 

“Is that the end of the story?” Carlie-boy wanted to know. 

“Yes,” said Old Pops, “I think it is.” 

“Is it a true story?” 

“Yes,” said Old Pops, “the part about Shah is all on a 
printed card near his cage. The part about Big Striped Terror 
and Wau and the heavy stone is true, too; at least, that is the 
way tigers were killed by the men of long ago. I can’t say 
for really-honest-sure-to-goodness that Wau said all the things 
I said he said, or that Big Striped Terror purred the very words 
I have told you she purred. But, on the whole, it is a really, 
true story, and — ■” 

“Here we are !” cried Carlie-boy. “And there is Mamma, on 
the porch ! Mamma ! Do you know how they catch Striped 
Terrors? There is one in the Zoo and his name is Shah and he 
won’t go in a cage though he is in a cage because there might 


BIG STRIPED TERROR 187 

be a heavy stone on top and his father's father's mother was 
caught that way and — " 

“And you are late for supper !" cried Mamma. “And I have 
such a nice one, too. I'm afraid it’s all spoiled.” 

“No it isn't !'' comforted Small Boy. “And anyway, I could 
eat it if it was !” 

“So could I !” agreed Old Pops. “I am so dry from talking 
and so empty from walking around animal houses and so — ” 

“We are so hungry!” interrupted Carlie-boy. “We are as 
hungry as hungry — as hungry as Striped Terrors!” he finished, 
triumphantly. 

And when Mamma looked at all that was left of her nice 
supper when Old Pops and Carlie-boy had finished, she quite 
agreed with them ! 


The Story of the Conqueror of the Conqueror of the King of 
the Jungle, of the Laws of Prey and Fear, and of Field 
Mouse and the Dark and Damp and Windy Hole 

4t T^OPS!” said Carlie-boy, bursting into the house, bang- 
J7 ing the door, dropping a ball and a bat and a glove as 
he raced through the hall, making a tremendous racket and 
a first class imitation of a cyclone. “Pops — oh Pops! Come 
here, quick-quick! Purr-purr — a dog — oh, hurry!” 

Old Pops uncurled himself, like an awkward anaconda, from 
his easy chair. Obedient to the tugging hands and excited de- 
mands of Small Son, he went to the door. Yes, there was 
Purr-purr, back up in the air, tail as big as three ordinary tails, 
eyes flashing fire, mouth spitting angry hisses. In front of her, 
crouched on the ground, was a dog. The dog was about nine 
times as big as Purr-purr, and apparently able to eat her in 
one gulp. But Master Doggie was doing no eating. He 
barked and growled and crouched down on his paws and quiv- 
ered with eagerness. But Purr-purr stood her ground, and one 
velvet paw, raised in the air, shod with claws already protrud- 
ing, spelled ‘‘danger” in no uncertain tones to Master Doggie. 

Three times he made up his mind to rush, and three times 
Purr-purr’s back went high. Three times she spat viciously 
and three times that paw was uplifted. Then, suddenly, her 
valor departed, and with a run and a jump, Purr-purr was up 
in a tree, Master Doggie whining and pawing eagerly at its 
trunk. Purr-purr, danger past, sat composedly on a limb and 
licked her paws, and finally, tail wagging to show his courage, 
Master Doggie wandered away. 

1 88 


THE STORY OF THE CONQUEROR 189 

After some persuasion and many looks about to see that her 
natural enemy was out of sight, Purr-purr slid down the tree 
into Carlie-boy’s arms. 

“Why didn’t you fight him?” Carlie-boy’s voice was re- 
proachful. “Why didn’t you claw him up ? He was scared of 
you, Purr-purr!” he said, his little hand stroking her soft 
fur, still tending to stand up straight from the dog fear that 
all cats know. “Why didn’t she fight him, Pops?” he turned 
to his father with the question. “He was scared of her. 
She had him licked! I guess she could just have clawed him 
up good — if she only wanted to.” 

“I think Purr-purr showed a nice discrimination,” laughed 
Old Pops. “She displayed that discretion which is always the 
better part of valor!” 

“Huh?” said Carlie-boy. “What does that mean?” 

“It means that while she might have beaten the dog, it was 
very probable that the dog would beat her. And so the fear 
that Mother Nature gave her came to her protection in spite 
of her brave stand and her arched back and her swelled up tail 
and her spitting mouth — and she ran away.” 

“She wasn't afraid ! Purr-purr wasn’t afraid of him at all ! 
Why she just stood there and said bad cat words at him and 
wouldn’t run a bit — until — until — Pops! Why was Purr- 
purr brave for a while and then why did she forget to be brave 
and run?” 

“I think it was several things !” answered Old Pops. “You 
see, Purr-purr is a Cat. And a Cat is only a Cat to us, but to 
herself a Cat is a very wonderful beast. Perhaps she never 
forgets that she is the Conqueror of the Conqueror of the King 
of the Jungle. Because she can fight and win with the only 
enemy which the real King of the Jungle fears, maybe she 
gets conceited and thinks she can fight every other animal 


190 


TELL-ME-WHY STORIES ABOUT ANIMALS 


too, including Dog. But I rather suspect she was brave only 
until she had a real good chance to get up the tree.” 

Carlie-boy’s eyes glistened. This certainly sounded like 
the first beginning of an interesting story. But, as even Carlie- 
boy knows, you can’t tell a story out on the sidewalk, and you 
can’t properly listen to a story with a Purr-purr in your arms 
whose tail is three times its proper size and whose eyes are 
shooting fire and who just won’t purr for looking around after 
Dog. 

“I don’t think Purr-purr is afraid !” said Carlie-boy, softly. 
“I don’t think she is a coward.” 

“Neither do I,” answered Old Pops. “To be cowardly is 
to be afraid of the things we can fight and conquer if we will. 
It is not cowardly to run from the things against which we have 
no chance.” 

“Why, Pops ! I don’t understand. Didn’t you say I ought 
not to run from William, and he’s so much older and bigger 
than I am?” 

“Surely. But I told you you could lick him if you only 
would — and, as I remember it, you did ! But I told you to run 
from that runaway horse that came tearing down the street. 
And I’d run away from a great storm, or a tree falling over, 
any time. It is part of Mother Nature’s Law. It is called the 
Law of Self Preservation, and we all have it — animals, and 
Pops, little boys and girls, and birds, fishes and insects, Mamma 
and Carlie-boy.” 

“And Purr-purr?” asked Carlie-boy. 

“And Purr-purr,” assented Old Pops. “Purr-purr, who is 
afraid of Dog, and Dog who is afraid of Wolf, and Wolf who 
is afraid of Tiger, and Tiger who is afraid of Elephant, and 
Elephant who is — But there! I am not telling a story — 
I am standing around in my slippers and shirt sleeves in the 


THE STORY OF THE CONQUEROR 191 

street talking to a Small Boy and a Cat and I am going to 
stop doing it this minute !” 

Old Pops started towards the house. Carlie-boy kept close 
behind, Purr-purr still in his arms. 

“Of course, you are not telling me a story now” said a 
small voice, “but I think you are going to tell a story. I 
think you are going to tell the story of Purr-purr and how she 
conquered the conqueror of the King of the Jungle and who 
was the King of the Jungle and who conquered him and how 
Purr-purr conquered the one who conquered the one who was 
the King of the Jungle and — ” 

“Stop — before you get so tangled up you choke with words !” 
commanded Old Pops. “As for story telling, I have a sort of 
a suspicion that the conversation does tend that way !” and Old 
Pops laughed. 

Carlie-boy nodded happily. 

“Well,” went on Old Pops, “suppose you sit down — on a 
chair! — and let me put my legs on the porch railing for a 
minute, and maybe I can be induced, with proper bribery, to tell 
you a story.” 

“Hm !” mused Carlie-boy, getting up and giving Old Pops 
a kiss. That was the regular bribe for a story. “Hm. I 
don’t know whether I ought to let you tell me a story without 
your being a chair for me, or not. I rather think I — ” 

“You rather think you will sit where you are, or I will for- 
get all about the story !” warned Old Pops. 

So Carlie-boy sat very still, with his chair very close to that 
in which Old Pops sat, and Old Pops began. 

“You know,” he said, “that Mother Nature had to make a 
Law, about which I have already told you, that various animals 
and birds and bugs and fishes and living things, could eat each 
other up. If it wasn’t for that Law, everything would be 


1 92 TELL-ME-WHY STORIES ABOUT ANIMALS 

hungry and there would soon be so many animals and birds 
and bugs and fishes and things there would be no room for any 
one to do anything or go anywhere, all over the earth. What 
good would the air be to birds if it was full of bugs so they 
couldn’t see the earth through them ? What good would it do 
Mother Nature to grow beautiful trees full of nice leaves and 
fruit and shade, if there were so many bugs they ate up all 
the leaves, and the worms were so many they ate up all the 
fruit? What kind of an earth would it be packed so full of 
lions and bears and elephants and cats and dogs and horses 
and lizards and crocodiles and turtles and bob-cats and lem- 
mings and hares and pigs and cows and snakes and things, that 
no one of them could move around because the others took 
up all the room ? 

“You can see there had to be this Law of Prey. 

“Well, when this Law was first made, of course all the ani- 
mals began to look out for themselves as best they could. And 
to each Mother Nature gave some splendid weapon, better and 
finer than any other animal’s weapon, or she gave them some 
special means of defense, better and different from any other 
animal’s defense, so that all would have a chance. I don’t 
know what Mother Nature called it, but learned men call it 
the Law of Compensation. Tiger and Lion got wonderful 
strength and claws and jaws — but they also got such disposi- 
tions that men hate them, and hunt them down remorselessly. 
Rabbit, who wouldn’t hurt anything if he could, got a very 
jumpy pair of legs and ears that hear the least sound. Horse 
got powerful hoofs to kick with, but a gentle nature so he 
doesn’t want to kick unless he is hurt. Camel got two 
stomachs so he could carry lots of water in the waste desert 
places where little water is to be found. Mongoose, who is 
little and brave, got a high courage and a body like a steel 


THE STORY OF THE CONQUEROR 


193 


spring. Weasel got cunning and wits. Purr-purr has claws, 
teeth, quickness and a clever head. Elephant has enormous 
strength, great weight, long tusks, a clever brain and a long 
trunk. 

“Now, I wasn’t there, and so I can’t say for truly sure just 
how Mother Nature made the Law. But I suspect she thought 
about it a long time, and that when she made it, it was a per- 
fect, finished, well-made Law. But I suppose a lot of the 
animals didn’t half listen to the Law and didn’t half understand 
it. And as Mother Nature never wastes any time, I suppose 
she just let them go and find out for themselves. Anyway, 
some of the animals got very conceited and proud about the 
powers they had under the new Law, and about their wonderful 
weapons and bravery, before they understood just what they 
really could expect. 

“ ‘Nothing in the world can stand before me !’ growled Tiger, 
lifting a great paw and setting it down again, very softly. 
‘I am Master of the Jungle! Buck, in full flight, Ox, strong 
of horn and of head, even my relative Lion, with his jaws 
and claws, I do not fear ! Gr-r-r-r-r-r-ur !’ 

“And all the animals and birds and beasts in that part of the 
jungle where Tiger was boasting about his strength and brav- 
ery shook and shivered in their tracks and said among them- 
selves, softly, 

“ Tt is true — nothing can stand before Tiger.’ 

“ ‘S-s-s-s-s-s-s-shs-s-s-shs-s-s-sh !’ hissed Cobra, sliding and 
writhing through the jungle. ‘S-s-s-shs-s-s-shs-s-s-sh. 
Everything that lives fears me. I have sharp teeth and a neck 
of steel. I have that in my poison bag which makes the 
strongest among you tremble. I am Mistress of the Jungle. 
The new Law gives me leave to eat — I eat !’ and with a rush 
and whir and a slithering rustle, she was onto a poor little bird 


194 TELL-ME-WHY STORIES ABOUT ANIMALS 

which wasn’t quick enough to escape being Cobra’s breakfast. 

“And all the animals and birds and beasts in that part of 
the jungle where Cobra was hissing about her neck of steel 
and her poison bag watched her catch the bird for breakfast, 
and slunk away, whispering among themselves, 

“ Tt is true. We all do fear Cobra and her terrible fangs 
and poison. She is truly Mistress of the Jungle!” 

“ ‘Ur-rh-r-r-r-ah !’ roared Lion. T am King of the Jungle. 
I am master of all the beasts ! Powerful of leg and body am I ! 
Mighty are my jaws, strong are my teeth, long and sharp are 
my claws ! When I lift my paw and bring it down hard, noth- 
ing that lives can stand under it. King of the Jungle am 
I, fearing no animal, beast or bird. Ur-rh-a-r-r-r-r-ah !’ 

“And all the animals and birds and beasts in that part of the 
jungle where Lion was roaring about being a master of all 
the beasts and the King of the Jungle, crept into their holes 
and nests and dens and agreed with him. 

“ ‘Great is Lion,’ they said. ‘He is truly King of the 
Jungle and fears nothing that lives!’ 

“All except Elephant. Elephant has great big ears and 
hears very keenly. Besides, he had heard the animals boast- 
ing before. And, when he looked at his great self, and his 
enormous strength and his big tusks and his terrible trunk, it 
rather made him weary to hear things like Lion and Tiger and 
Cobra talking about how strong and brave and clever and 
kingly and mistress-y they were ! 

“Elephant leaned against a huge tree and flapped his ears.* 
Slowly and gently he rocked from side to side, and the ground 
trembled under his mighty weight and the great tree quivered 
as he scratched himself against its bark. 

“ ‘Hush !’ he trumpeted, raising his long trunk. ‘Hush ! 
What talk is this of might and fear? Lion King of the 


THE STORY OF THE CONQUEROR 


195 


Jungle? Bah! Nothing stand before Tiger? Nonsense! 
Fear of a poison bag in Cobra’s head? What foolishness. I 
am the real King of the Jungle. I am the real mighty one, 
whom all fear and whom all obey. I do not eat animals — 
and well indeed for them it is that I like only the green leaves, 
the soft grain, the juicy fruit. For I am the greatest, the 
biggest, the strongest, the heaviest, the most mighty and the 
bravest of all animals, and none that lives can make me fear. 
Rhino I conquer! Lion I tear in two! Tiger I crush with 
my weight. Cobra I do not even notice, save as I may set 
my foot upon her, to make of what was a Snake but a brown 
stain upon the leaves! Peace, and be still, for it is I, really 
monarch of all that lives, who speaks !’ 

“Lion and Tiger and Cobra didn’t say anything, because 
they probably didn’t hear all this, being busy roaring and 
yowling and hissing about how strong and brave and wonder- 
ful they were. Of course, maybe they did hear it and didn’t 
want to seem to hear it. Because it was perfectly true. Lion 
couldn’t fight with Elephant and win, neither could Tiger. As 
for Cobra, she didn’t have enough poison in her sack to kill 
Elephant, even supposing she could bite through his thick 
hide. And of course, while it was very hurting to the feelings 
to be talked about as a brown stain, still Cobra knew that if 
she ever got under Elephant’s foot and he stood on it, she 
would be lucky to leave even a stain ! 

“But Mother Nature, standing behind a tree, smiled. For 
she knew that with the Law of Compensation and the Law of 
Prey, went the Law of Fear, that there might be a Law of 
Self-Preservation. They are all wonderfully bound up to- 
gether, these Laws, and even to-day, when we understand 
something about them, we must marvel at their wonderful 
perfection. For see, Little Son, if we were not afraid of 


196 TELL-ME-WHY STORIES ABOUT ANIMALS 

anything, we could not protect ourselves. It is because you 
fear the pain of a burn that you keep your skin away from 
the fire that would hurt it. It is because Purr-purr knows 
Dog is stronger than she is that she forgets that she is a con- 
queror of conquerors and runs away when she has a chance. 
It is because the Law of Fear works with the Law of Prey 
that not all birds are eaten by Weasel and Fox. It is because 
of the Law of Compensation that Hare, who has no teeth 
nor claws to fight with, has a color which makes him almost 
invisible, and ears to hear the slightest sound of an enemy stir- 
ring in the forest. Fly, tiny and weak, with all his littleness, 
is very hard to catch because, long before we can slap him, 
his thousand eyes give him the warning and his fear 
makes him move and Fly is far away when our hand comes 
down! 

“But this was a part of the Law that Tiger and Lion and 
Cobra and particularly Elephant didn’t know. 

“But it wasn’t long before they began to find out. 

“Lion and Tiger, strong and fierce and wonderfully armed 
as they are, soon found out that they were not the absolute 
masters of all the beasts that they supposed they were ! There 
was that Rhino person, for instance, with his strong horn 
and his rude manners. Lion soon arrived at the point where 
he regarded Rhino as utterly beneath his notice — so much 
so that he took good care not to be around where Rhino was ! 
As for Tiger, he saw Rhino break the back of a relative of his, 
and a very wholesome fear of Rhino, his horn, his tough skin 
and his rude ways, not to speak of his perfectly uncontrollable 
temper, entered into him. And he didn’t talk quite so loudly 
as before about being so strong and so brave. All of that, 
however, is not this story at all ! 

“But Cobra paid no attention to these lessons. Cobra still 


THE STORY OF THE CONQUEROR 


197 


considered herself to be Mistress of the Jungle. She knew 
that all the animals she had met would give her a wide berth. 
She knew that the birds hated her and feared her, and that, 
except for flapping their wings and squawking, they didn’t 
dare do anything to her when she robbed their nests of eggs. 
She knew that when she raised her flat hooded head and 
swayed gently back and forth, and then lunged forward with 
all the long, lithe, steel-spring length and strength of her, no 
animal was quick enough to get out of her way. She knew 
that once she had bitten any animal — such tiny, tiny bites they 
were, too ! — it was only a short time before that animal curled 
up in a ball and tried to tie himself in a knot and presently 
stretched out quite dead. And all the animals knew it, too, 
and gave Cobra a wide, wide path when they met her slithering 
and writhing through the Jungle. 

“And so, of course, Cobra was very, very conceited and 
didn’t care who knew it. 

“But it wasn’t to last. For one day Cobra met a little 
animal who failed to give her a wide berth. The little animal 
stood still in the path and waited. 

“ 'H-s-s-s-s-s-s-s-h/ hissed Cobra. 'Out of my way, little 
brown rat, or I strike. Out of my wa-a-a-a-ay! S-h-s-h-s-h- 
s-h-s-s-s !’ 

“The 'little brown rat’ didn’t budge. But his eyes gleamed. 
And his long neck worked, and the muscles under it curled 
and slid upon each other. 

“So Cobra, very short tempered about it, struck. 

“Now if the 'little brown rat/ whose real name was Mon- 
goose, had stayed where he was, he would have been a very 
dead Mongoose indeed. But he didn’t stay where he was. 
He moved. And quickly as Cobra struck, Mongoose was just 
a shade quicker. In fact, Mongoose is just about the quickest 


198 TELL-ME-WHY STORIES ABOUT ANIMALS 

thing on four legs there is — and he has to be, if he fights with 
Cobra. 

“Nothing like this had ever happened before. Cobra didn’t 
understand it. So she whirled in her tracks and struck again. 
It was an easy strike — there was ‘little brown rat’ just waiting. 
But again Mongoose lifted those quick little feet of his, and 
again Cobra missed. 

“Cobra was now so angry she could hardly see. And she 
whirled the third time and struck once more. 

“It was her last strike. Mongoose jumped up in the air, 
and when he came down, he came down with his teeth just be- 
hind Cobra’s head, and when Cobra got through lashing and 
thrashing about, she was dead! 

“Mongoose got up and looked at her. I wasn’t there, and 
so I don’t know just what he said, but I suspect it was some- 
thing like this, 

“ ‘Too much bragging in this jungle about being Mistress of 
it. Nothing but a slow old snake, after all !’ 

“And if Cobra could have heard herself called ‘slow,’ it 
would have killed her all over again ! 

“Another ‘Old Pops’ besides yours, Little Son, has told a 
story of a very famous fight between a Mongoose and two 
Cobras. It is called ‘Rikki-Tikki-Tavi,’ and is one of the 
most beautiful stories you ever read, told as only that par- 
ticular ‘Old Pops’ can tell such stories. And the Mongoose 
in that story, Rikki-Tikki-Tavi, was a great-great-million 
times-great-grandson of this Mongoose, which first put Fear 
in the heart of Cobra, who up to that time had thought her- 
self Mistress of the Jungle. Ever since the first Mongoose 
fought and killed the first Snake, the main business in life of 
the Mongoose has been killing Snakes. And the main business 
of all kinds of Snakes is to keep out of the way of quicker- 


THE STORY OF THE CONQUEROR 199 

than-a-steel-spring Mongoose — particularly when they do their 
boasting. 

“Now, Elephant may have seen all this and he may not. 
But I don’t suppose it made any difference to him if he did — 
he probably wouldn’t have learned anything from it. For 
animals, even clever ones, seldom learn anything by watching 
what happens to another animal. They learn much better — 
as indeed we all do — from what happens to them, themselves. 
‘Experience is the best teacher’ is an old, old saying, which is 
just another way of remarking that what happens to us, 
teaches us much better and much quicker than what happens 
to some one else. You are more careful with a hammer after 
you have mashed your own fingers with it than you are just 
when you are told by some one else to look out for it ! 

“So Elephant had to get his own experience — it wasn’t 
enough for him to see Tiger and Lion get licked by Rhino, 
or to know that Cobra, terrible and fearful death though she 
could give, must yet learn to fear a little bit of an animal, that 
he, Elephant, could throw with his trunk, as easily as you could 
throw a ball — always providing Elephant could catch him. 
Perhaps it was because Mongoose was such a little chap that 
Elephant didn’t pay much attention to him, or have much 
respect for what he did. 

“But Elephant was to learn respect for a smaller animal 
than Mongoose! 

“For really, Elephant got to be quite a jungle nuisance. 
He trumpeted whenever he got ready and scared away all the 
game. When he wanted something to eat, he would tear 
down a tree, whether there were Monkey or Bird people in it 
or not. If he didn’t like the water hole, he would go and lie 
down in it, even if he had to catch hold of Rhino or Water 
Buffalo and pull them out, and change its shape. He scared 


200 TELL-ME-WHY STORIES ABOUT ANIMALS 


the fish in the rivers and the animals on the land. Because 
he was the strongest of them all, he did exactly as he pleased. 
Of course, this made him still more conceited. Almost any 
day you could hear him explaining to Mrs. Elephant and any 
other animal in hearing, just how it happened. 

“ 'They don’t talk so much about being Kings and Masters 
and Mistresses of the Jungle now — Lion and Tiger and 
Cobra!’ he would say, flopping his ears and rolling his little 
eyes, cunningly. 'They have found out that what I said is so. 
The only way to be the real King of the Jungle is to be as big 
and strong and particularly — oh, most emphatically and posi- 
tively and absolutely and certainly and distinctly particularly 
— as brave as I am! Nothing in the world do I fear! No 
animal on earth can make me quail! From the tiniest little 
thing that I scrunch with my feet, to the greatest of the beasts 
that I catch with my trunk and toss with my tusks, I fear 
none of them. All are my subjects — all fear me, and none, 
absolutely and categorically none, have any terrors for me ! I 
am Elephant, King of the Jungle, and none can say me nay!’ 

“Mother Nature, who of course heard him, let him run on 
for a while. But she was getting ready to show Elephant 
something he didn’t know. And one day, when he had almost 
set his foot down on a nest of Field Mice, and they had fled, 
squeaking and quaking, through the tall grass, to hide and 
tremble for hours at a time, Mother Nature decided it was 
time to act. 

“ ‘Poor little Field Mouse !’ she said to him, softly. ‘Why 
do you tremble so? And where is your home?’ 

“ 'I tremble so, Mother Nature/ answered Field Mouse, 
squeaking very, very softly, 'because of Elephant. His foot 
came down and I can find no trace of my little, humble home 


201 


THE STORY OF THE CONQUEROR 

— it is all gone. And it was a pretty home, too, and I had 
worked hard getting the grass and leaves together.’ 

“ ‘Why, then, don’t you fight Elephant and show him you 
are not to be treated so?’ asked Mother Nature. 

“No, she wasn’t smiling a bit. 

“ ‘Oh, Mother Nature,’ squeaked Field Mouse. ‘How can 
one so small and lowly as I am fight with Elephant, who is 
King of the Jungle? He fears no one of us — not even Lion 
and Tiger, the terrible. How should I, who have neither 
strength nor size nor weight nor long teeth, fight with him who 
is Lord of us all?’ 

“ ‘But you have something else,’ said Mother Nature. ‘You 
have whiskers and tiny, tiny claws.’ 

“ ‘But neither whiskers nor tiny, tiny claws would hurt Ele- 
phant,’ protested Field Mouse. 

“ ‘No, they wouldn’t hurt him. But they would do some- 
thing else to him,’ smiled Mother Nature. 

“‘What would they do, Mother Nature?’ asked Field 
Mouse. 

“ ‘They would tickle !’ answered Mother Nature. ‘Listen !’ 

“Then Mother Nature leaned over and whispered something 
in Field Mouse’s tiny ear. No, I don’t know what it was, 
but I suspect what it might have been. Field Mouse listened, 
his little head cocked on one side, his bright, beady eyes 
glistening. 

“Finally he sat up and twiddled his front paws. 

“ ‘I’ll — I’ll try,’ he said, very, very softly. ‘Really, having 
one’s nest destroyed this way is most annoying !’ 

Mother Nature stepped back and walked away, satisfied. 

“Nothing happened for a few days, because Field Mouse 
couldn’t run after Elephant and catch him, even if he wanted 


202 TELL-ME-WHY STORIES ABOUT ANIMALS 


to. And he didn’t want to. He wanted to stay right there 
and build up another nest of grass and leaves and earth for 
Mrs. Field Mouse and all the very many little Field Mice which 
he had to look after. 

“But every animal in the jungle will come past any spot 
in the jungle if you wait long enough, and Elephants, par- 
ticularly, often come over the same paths. They are so big it 
is much easier to come back over a path they have made than it 
is to make a new path. 

“So Elephant came back the way he had gone. 

“When he was almost to the place where he had stepped 
upon and destroyed the Field Mouse house, he heard a little 
voice, way down below him, speaking to him. 

“ ‘Oh, mighty Elephant,’ squeaked the little voice, ‘stop 
and fight! You have destroyed a home and you must learn 
to respect the one built in its place !’ 

“‘Is that so?’ asked Elephant, curiously. ‘Well, I have 
not fought to-day. Who is it that wants to fight me, and why 
doesn’t he come and do it, instead of sending such a — ah — 
ahem — hoot — phrut-phrut — small messenger ?’ 

“ 7 am the animal whose home you destroyed, O Elephant, 
and you are to fight with me/ cried Field Mouse, valiantly, 
though he trembled all over inside, I have no doubt. 

“ ‘What — hoot-phrut-phrut — what was that ?’ trumpeted 
Elephant. ‘I didn’t understand. Say that again !’ 

“ ‘I said,’ repeated Field Mouse, squeaking very loudly now, 
‘that you are to fight with me. You great, big, overgrown, 
top-heavy, clumsy mountain of an animal, you are to fight with 
me! And I shall teach you such a lesson as shall make the 
Jungle laugh at you forever, and forever after you will leave 
me and my kind alone. To-day is your last day as King of 
the Jungle. Ever after to-day you will tremble when jou 


THE STORY OF THE CONQUEROR 


203 


hear my voice, and your children and their children after them 
shall fear the challenge I shall teach my children to send !’ 

‘This was a very bragging speech, indeed, and Elephant 
lowered his head to get a good look at the remarkable animal 
which made it. It was rather hard to see him, because he 
wasn’t much bigger than a minute — just a little gray splotch 
on the earth where Elephant’s foot had come down and mashed 
the Field Mouse’s home into a round hole. 

“ ‘Well, well, well !’ trumpeted Elephant. ‘This is absolutely 
the funniest thing I ever heard. Here is an animal so small 
I can hardly see him, says he’s going to teach me a lesson! 
Ho-ho — hoot-hoot — phrut-phrut — also ho-hoot and hoot-ho, 
not to mention phrut-hoot and hoot-phroot-hoot ! Please be- 
gin, little-animal- I-don’t-know-the-name-of and teach me the 
lesson !’ 

“ ‘My name is Field Mouse,’ squeaked that animal loudly. 
‘And you will know my voice from to-day for ever more, and 
tremble when you hear it! Prepare for fight!’ 

“ ‘Why, you — you insect !’ laughed Elephant, putting down 
his trunk. ‘I could blow you away with one blow!’ 

“‘Try it!’ shrieked Field Mouse. ‘Try it! Nasty, dis- 
agreeable, boasting braggart! Try it — if you dare!’ 

“Elephant put down his trunk, close to Field Mouse, and got 
ready to blow. But before he could blow his breath through 
his trunk, which would, indeed, have tumbled Field Mouse 
head over heels if it didn’t kill him entirely, something hap- 
pened. 

“Field Mouse, who had been told, I suspect, all about this 
by Mother Nature, gave a run and a hop and a skip and jump 
and a scuttling skedaddle. And when he was through, there 
he was, inside Elephant’s trunk, half way up, his tiny little 
claws holding on tight to the very tender, moist skin inside 


204 TELL-ME-WHY STORIES ABOUT ANIMALS 


Elephant’s long nose, with his whiskers tickling Elephant’s 
most ticklish place in the most abominable way imaginable. 

“Of course, Field Mouse couldn’t tell just what Elephant 
was doing. All he knew was that he was in a very great 
wind storm, as Elephant drew in and pushed out his breath 
with mighty heavings and surgings of his great sides. To 
Field Mouse, this was nothing but a damp, dark, windy hole, 
smelling rather like hay and Elephant, and soft to the touch. 
To Elephant, however, it was his nose, and it was very tender 
and very ticklish, and that confounded Field Mouse was up 
in there and making him most uncomfortable. 

“To all the rest of the jungle, it was as if Elephant had 
gone crazy. For he pranced and he danced and he jumped 
and he humped and he dropped and he flopped and he pushed 
and he rushed and he mauled at trees and he hauled at trees 
and he ran in the water and he ran out again and he trumpeted 
and he cried and he moaned and he groaned and he swore bad 
elephant swears and generally acted as if he were very much 
annoyed indeed. Mother Nature stood behind a tree and 
laughed. How do I know? I don’t know, but I am pretty 
sure she did. I don’t see how she could help it. Here was 
Elephant, the very biggest and strongest, and — if you took his 
own words for it — the bravest of all the animals, acting like 
a sick monkey because Field Mouse had undertaken to teach 
him a lesson. 

“Now, the inside of Elephant’s trunk is just as sensitive and 
tender as it can be. Field Mouse, who hadn’t very much 
trouble hanging on, was both hurting it and tickling it at the 
same time. Elephant didn’t like it — he didn’t like it at all! 
In fact he hated it. And the worst of it was, he didn’t know 
what to do about it ! A respectable enemy he would have torn 
in two. A big enemy he would have thrown down and kneeled 


THE STORY OF THE CONQUEROR 205 


on. But a little enemy so small he couldn’t find him when he 
was outside, and a concealed little enemy at that, inside his 
very self — what could Elephant do? He couldn’t do any- 
thing except holler for mercy. And how he did holler, to be 
sure. He trumpeted and ho-hoed and hoot-hooted and phrut- 
phrutted, and I suspect he ho-hooted and hoot-phrutted, too, 
but it didn’t do the least good in the world. Of course, Ele- 
phant tried to run away from Field Mouse. He ran through 
the jungle until he was all tired out. But as Elephant had to 
carry his trunk with him, and as Field Mouse was tightly fixed 
in the inside skin of the trunk, that didn’t do him the very 
least bit of good. 

“At last, Elephant sank down on the ground, utterly ex- 
hausted, and laid his trunk out straight. 

“ Tlease, oh please, good Mr. Field Mouse,’ he coaxed, 
‘please come out. I will do anything you want if you will 
only come out. You hurt and you tickle and you — oh — ouch 
— hootouch and phrutouch too — please come out!’ 

“So Field Mouse came out, and sat down, and began to 
lick his forepaws. 

“ ‘It’s very dark and windy in your trunk,’ he said, ‘and 
damp ! I like it better out here !’ 

“ ‘So do I like you better out here. Promise me you will 
never — never do that again!’ 

“ ‘Oh, no,’ said Field Mouse, very politely indeed. ‘I 
couldn’t promise. I might want to do it again. I should like 
to take Mrs. Field Mouse up there and show her. She has 
never seen the dark and windy and damp inside of Elephant’s 
trunk, and it would be highly interesting, I know !’ 

“Elephant was so terrified at the thought of two Field Mice 
rooting around at the same time on the inside of his dark and 
windy and damp trunk, that he almost cried. 


206 tell-me-why stories about animals 


“ ‘Don’t you do it/ he commanded. ‘Don’t you dare do 
it. If you do I will — ’ 

“ ‘Well/ interrupted Field Mouse, ‘what will you do ? 
Come now, what will you do? Smash my home? I will 
build another. Catch me? You are too big and too slow. 
Step on me? I could go to sleep and get up again between 
the time you raise your foot and put it down. Tell me — 
suppose I do go back up your trunk again, what are you going 
to dor 

“ ‘I shall never give you the chance again !’ trumpeted Ele- 
phant, not answering the question at all. ‘I shall carry my 
trunk up in the air.’ 

“ ‘Oh no, you won’t/ squeaked Field Mouse. ‘You pick up 
grass and grain — and I live in grass and grain. You drink — 
and I swim in water. Never, never, never shall you be safe 
from me. And you can’t do a thing ! So I’d advise you, as a 
friend — for I really don’t want to hurt you, you poor, tired out 
hulk — I’d advise you to look where you put your feet and 
now and forever after leave the homes of the Field Mice, 
your masters, alone!’ 

“Curling his trunk up very high, and then putting the end 
in his mouth, Elephant got up and staggered off. It was true. 
He couldn’t do anything to Field Mouse. He couldn’t catch 
him. He couldn’t hurt him. He couldn’t injure him. Ele- 
phant was licked, and he knew it. Field Mouse had taught 
him a lesson. And all the jungle knew it, too, and I sus- 
pect there was a good deal of talking and remarks that Ele- 
phant must have found disagreeable to listen to. 

“However that may be, I do know that Elephant has 
never, never forgotten his lesson. Let a Mouse squeak — 
any kind of a Mouse, Field Mouse or Common Mouse, and you 
will see Elephant’s trunk go up, and hear him trumpet the short 


THE STORY OF THE CONQUEROR 207 


quick ‘hoot-hoot’ that means he is scared out of his life and 
trembling in all his huge big bulk. If you should watch an 
Elephant feeding, you will notice that he always keeps the 
holes in his trunk tightly closed while he grabs hold of hay, 
so no mouse can get in. And I have no doubt that he was 
mighty particular, from then on, to keep his feet away from the 
homes of Field Mice! 

“Now, that would be the end of the story if it wasn’t for 
one thing. The one thing was that Field Mouse got all 
puffed up about the lesson that he had taught Elephant. You 
would have thought that such a timid little fellow would have 
been delighted to have conquered once and then gone back to 
his quiet ways. But he wasn’t. He squeaked about it all 
over the jungle. He couldn’t stop telling everything he could 
get to listen how it was that he had conquered Elephant, 
the animal all the other animals feared. 

“ ‘In fact,’ he squeaked at Lion, passing one day, 7 am King 
of the Jungle! For you, who called yourself so, cannot fight 
Elephant, and I can fight him and did fight him, and while I 
didn’t kill him, I did make him cry for mercy. Yes, I, Field 
Mouse, who conquerered the conqueror of all, am King of the 
Jungle !’ 

“What do you think of that? Foolish of him, wasn’t it? 
So Mother Nature thought. For she knew it wasn’t so — Field 
Mouse was only obeying her command and showing Elephant 
that even so great a beast as he had a place which could be 
attacked — even so strong a beast as he a Fear he must respect. 
For Fear, as I have told you, is necessary for us all, animals 
and humans alike, because if it were not for the Law of 
Fear, there would be no Law of Self-Preservation and every- 
thing that lives would die or get killed. 

“So Mother Nature called Cat to her — I don’t know 


208 tell-me-why stories about animals 


whether it was a wild cat or a lynx, a leopard or a bob-cat, but 
anyway, it was a Cat. And the next time Field Mouse said he 
was King of the Jungle, there was a flash of yellow against 
the green, a click of teeth, and Cat was licking her jaws and 
Field Mouse — he wasn’t , any more ! 

“Ever since that time, Cats have eaten Mice, even as Mice 
have frightened Elephants, who can kill Tigers, who can kill 
Wolves, who can kill Dogs, who can kill Cats, who can kill 
Mice, who can frighten Elephants, who can kill Tigers, who 
can kill Wolves, who can kill Dogs, who can kill Cats, who can 
kill Mice, who can frighten Elephants, who can — •” 

“Whoa !” cried Carlie-boy, looking up and laughing. “Is it 
a merry-go-round ?” 

“Something like that, Small Son. Now you know why I 
said that maybe Purr-purr stood her ground because she re- 
membered that she was a great-great-great-granddaughter of 
the Cat who conquered the Field Mouse who conquered the 
conqueror of the Jungle. But maybe, too, it was as I said be- 
fore, because she saw a good chance to get away from the 
one animal she fears above all others.” 

“Is that truly the end of the story?” Carlie-boy wanted to 
know, hoping that there was something more. 

“It is truly the end — unless Purr-purr has something to say 
about it. Now, I am going in and see if there isn’t something 
for supper that I can frighten and conquer with a knife and 
fork!” 

Carlie-boy, still holding Purr-purr, by now sound asleep in 
his arms, looked at his pet and stroked her lovingly. 

“Can you say anything about the story?” he asked the 
sleeping pussy in his lap. “I don’t care if you did run,” he 
went on. “I s d have run, too. After all, you are the King of 


THE STORY OF THE CONQUEROR 209 


the Jungle, since you conquer Mouse who frightens Elephant 
who — who — ” 

“P-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-ur-ur-ur-ur-r-r-r !” said Purr-purr, waking 
up and stretching herself. 

And that was the real end of the story ! 


VAIL -BALLOU CO. 


BINGHAMTON AND NEW YORK 









































































































































































































































































































































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